THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
EDWIN  CORLE 

PRESENTED  BY 
JEAN  CORLE 


BEANY,    G  ANGLES  HANKS, 
AND  THE  TUB 


BY 

EDWARD  STREETER 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

Ifmicfeerbocfcer  jpress 

1921 


Copyright,    1921 

by 
Edward   Streeter 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


TO 
CLAIRE  WARREN  STREETER 


2035282 


HAVING  passed  for  twelve  years  between  the 
Scylla  of  whooping  cough  and  mumps,  and  the 
Charybdis  of  chicken-pox  and  mumps,  we  arrive  at 
the  Golden  Age.  Then,  momentarily,  the  dream 
world  blends  with  the  world  of  things  as  they  are. 
Romance  dwells,  convenient,  in  dusty  barns  and  un 
frequented  attics.  A  ragman's  horse  becomes  a 
worthy  stable-mate  of  Pegasus.  Each  passing 
derelict  is  a  potential  nobleman  or  desperado. 

At  no  period  are  our  sensibilities  more  keen.  Let 
him  beware  who  says,  "It  doesn't  matter.  He's  only 
a  little  boy."  Seldom  in  later  life  is  misery  more 
poignant  or  joy  sweeter,  though  the  cause  be  infinitely 
more  weighty.  For  at  twelve  causes  are  limitless. 
At  fifty  they  are  pitilessly  defined. 

Beany,  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  may  have  lived 
trivial  lives,  but  they  lived  them  with  an  intensity 
which  balanced  the  scales.  In  most  things  they 
merely  reflected  the  grown-ups  only  with  more  brutal 
frankness.  Boys,  doctors,  financiers,  explorers,  all 
dig  in  different  fields,  but,  consciously  or  not,  they 
seek  the  same  mental — Romance.  The  difference 
between  twelve  and  fifty  is  the  price  which  must  be 
paid  to  find  it. 

[v] 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     INTRODUCING  THE  LAUGHING  HORSE     .  i 

II     THE  HIGH  COST  OF  PHILANTHROPY  .      .  7 

III  HIGHLIGHTS  AND  TWILIGHTS  IN  GALLUP 

STREET 17 

IV  THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF   MAINTAINING  A 

MODERN  STABLE 25 

V     DOWN  BUT  BY  No  MEANS  OUT   ...  35 

VI     THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  LAW      ....  41 

VII     OATS,  LIKE  MURDER,  WILL  OUT     .     .  52 

VIII     THE  INVINCUBEL  ATHELETIC  CLUB       .  61 

IX     THE  ORACLE 70 

X    THE  DANGER  OF  DULL  AFTERNOONS     .  80 

XI     EXCURSIONS  AND  ALARMS       ....  88 

XII     FIRE! 95 

XIII  THE  ELIXIR  OF  FAME 101 

XIV  SUNDAY,  A  DAY  OF  REST 107 

XV    THE  DISADVANTAGES  OF  PUNCTUALITY  .  113 

XVI     RECOVERED   SELF-RESPECT        .      .      .      .  122 

XVII     THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD        .      .      .      .  138 

XVIII     INTO  THE  HEART  OF  THE  UNKNOWN     .  149 

[vii] 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX  BIG  GAME 161 

XX  THE  WIND  AMONG  THE  BRANCHES    .      .  169 

XXI  RECALL 179 

XXII  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  DAY    ....  186 

XXIII  THE  DUKE'S  REVENGE 197 

XXIV  A  NOBLEMAN  FROM  NOWHERE     .      .      .  205 
XXV  AN  ATTIC  PHILOSOPHER 218 

XXVI  THE  SPIRIT  WORLD 230 

XXVII  IN  THE  NIGHT 241 

XXVIII  MENTAL  DISORDERS 251 

XXIX  ONE  GOOD  DEED  A  DAY 261 

XXX  CONCERNING     THE     INFANT     MICHAEL 

JOHN 268 

XXXI  "HEVINBORN" 278 

XXXII  A  JOB  FOR  THE  REFORM  LEAGUE  .      .      .  284 

XXXIII  INGRATITUDE 289 

XXXIV  THE  INFERNAL  FEMININE       ....  299 
XXXV  SOCIETY 313 


[viii] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 
AND  THE  TUB 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 
AND  THE  TUB 

CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCING  THE  LAUGHING  HORSE 

A  holy  zeal  filled  the  twelve-year-old  breast  of 
Beany  Fleming.  He  had  just  listened  to  the  message 
of  the  Rev.  Thaddeus  Hopkins,  secretary  of  the  Na 
tional  S.  P.  C.  A.  As  a  rule  school  talks  left  him  in  a 
comatose  condition.  Today,  however,  he  had  been 
prejudiced  in  the  speaker's  favor.  An  unprepared 
arithmetic  lesson  had  been  swept  out  of  existence  by 
the  arrival  of  the  reverend  gentleman.  Under  such 
conditions  Beany  would  willingly  have  become  a  con 
vert  to  anything  from  back-yard  gardening  to  the 
eternal  wearing  of  rubbers. 

Mr.  Hopkins  had  made  a  favorable  impression  on 
the  whole  school.  He  did  not  fuss  about  soul  uplift 
like  other  dreary  bores  who  addressed  them,  but 
spoke  like  a  man  of  sling  shots,  air  rifles,  tin  cans, 
and  flying  stones.  In  fact  he  had  gone  into  the  sub- 

[i] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

ject  so  minutely  that  he  had  suggested  a  number  of 
new  tortures  which  the  school  had  never  thought 
of  before,  but  were  anxious  to  try  as  soon  as  they 
decently  could. 

Beany  had  a  code  of  morals  entirely  his  own.  He 
felt  that  the  Reverend  Hopkins  had  done  him  a 
favor.  The  least  he  could  do  in  return  was  to  fol 
low  that  gentleman's  wishes  to  the  letter.  Some 
such  idea  was  passing  through  his  mind  when  a  squir 
rel  climbed  down  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  paused 
cautiously  on  the  opposite  curbing,  then  scampered 
across  the  street  towards  them.  Gangleshanks  in 
stinctively  swung  his  books  on  the  end  of  their  strap 
and  let  them  fly.  The  squirrel  disappeared  into  the 
branches  of  a  tree.  The  books  slid  harmlessly  along 
the  grass  and  stopped  under  the  active  area  of  an 
automatic  sprinkler.  Having  recovered  them  in  a 
glutinous  state  they  continued  their  walk. 

"What's  th'  sense  in  doin'  that  ?  Golly  day !  Why 
don't  you  try  an'  be  decent  to  somethin'  once  in  a 
while?"  enquired  the  new  champion  of  the  dumb. 

"Aw  shucks!  Wha'd  I  do?"  Gangleshanks  trans 
ferred  some  of  the  lawn  from  the  New  Gradatim  to 
his  trousers.  "Gee  whizz,  you've  got  to  be  an  awful 
sis,  Beany." 

[2] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"I  ain't  at  all,"  replied  Beany  indignantly.  "It's 
only  a  kid's  trick,  though,  to  shy  somethin'  at  every- 
thin'  y'see." 

"Well,  what  harm'd  I  do?    Didn't  hit  it,  did  I?" 

"No,  but  you  might  Ve." 

"But  I  didn't,  did  I?" 

"That  don't  make  any  dif'rence." 

This  point  of  ethics  might  have  continued  inter 
minably  had  their  attention  not  been  diverted  by  a 
ragman's  horse  and  wagon  which  was  drawn  up  be 
side  the  curb.  On  other  days  this  was  not  a  sight  to 
cause  any  comment.  Beany's  mind,  however,  was 
on  the  lookout  this  afternoon  for  animals  which 
might  be  in  need  of  his  assistance.  The  horse,  more 
over,  was  not  an  ordinary  one.  His  long,  uneven  hair 
gave  him  an  appearance  of  prophetic  age.  He  leaned 
wearily  against  one  of  the  maples  which  lined  the 
curb  on  either  side,  his  front  feet  crossed  like  those 
of  a  corner  lounger.  The  most  extraordinary  thing 
about  the  horse,  however,  was  his  face.  It  was  a 
tired,  careworn  face,  yet  there  was  a  humorous 
twinkle  about  the  eyes.  As  the  boys  approached  the 
horse  bared  his  teeth  and  laughed  silently  and 
heartily. 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks  stopped  to  admire  this 
[3] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

demonstration  of  equine  facetiousness  with  open- 
mouthed  amazement.  Having  indulged  in  a  good 
laugh  the  grey  horse  closed  his  eyes  wearily  and 
emitted  a  deep  sigh. 

"He's  most  human,"  whispered  Gangleshanks, 
awestruck.  He  was  afraid  the  horse  might  hear 
him  and  be  offended  at  the  qualification. 

"Golly  day,  look  at  his  ribs!"  said  Beany. 
"They're  bustin'  out  of  his  skin  like  an  umbrella. 
Betcha  dollar  he  hasn't  had  anythin'  to  eat  for  a 
year." 

As  if  to  testify  to  this  the  grey  horse  turned 
his  head  slightly  and,  without  shifting  his  position, 
began  to  nibble  bark  from  the  tree.  A  gate  creaked. 
Beany  and  Gangleshanks  observed  the  horse's 
owner  coming  towards  them. 

"T'inkin'  o'  buyin'  'im?"  He  was  a  little  man, 
bent  from  constantly  carrying  heavy  bags  on  his 
shoulder.  A  stubby  beard  concealed  the  lower  part 
of  his  face.  This  occasioned  no  regret  once  the 
upper  part  had  been  seen.  He  wore  a  cap,  devoid 
of  shape  and  so  old  that  it  looked  like  one  of  his 
own  rags  which  had  fluttered  down  and  rested  on 
the  top  of  his  head.  A  greenish  yellow  cutaway 
adorned  his  shoulders.  His  trousers  ascended  from 

[4] 


AND  THE  TUB 

his  shoetops  in  great  rolls  and  billows.  They  might 
have  served  as  the  models  for  those  garments  which 
sculptors  are  so  fond  of  draping  on  the  legs  of  mid- 
Victorian  statesmen. 

"That's  a  fine  horse,"  said  Beany,  encouraged  by 
this  display  of  friendliness.  "How  old's  he  ?"  That 
had  always  seemed  a  good  noncommittal  leader 
when  discussing  horses. 

"Vorty-two."  The  ragman  threw  his  bag  on  the 
wagon  and  prepared  to  mount  onto  the  rickety  seat. 
"Vorty-two  come  Passover." 

"Golly  day,  that's  old!  Looks  kind  o'  thin,  don't 
he?"  Beany  wondered  if  this  was  the  sort  of  thing 
which  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hopkins  had  meant. 

"He's  a  wery  del' cats  eater,"  explained  the  rag 
man. 

"Wha'd'y  feed  him?"  asked  Gangleshanks,  in 
terested  in  spite  of  himself. 

"Vun  shredded  veat  a  day,"  said  the  ragman, 
gathering  up  the  reins  and  making  a  rattling  noise 
with  his  tongue.  The  grey  horse  shivered  from  head 
to  foot,  uncrossed  his  legs  and  stood  erect  with 
difficulty. 

"Isn't  he  a  little  wobbly?"  ventured  Beany. 

"He  don't  stand  veil  ven  he  ain't  leanin',"  ex- 
[5] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

plained  the  ragman.  "There  used  to  be  two  on  'em. 
They  leaned  against  vun  another.  Then  they  vent 
veil." 

He  shook  the  reins.  The  grey  horse  staggered 
unsteadily  away.  Beany  fished  a  pencil  stub  from 
his  pocket,  wet  the  end,  and  wrote  on  the  back  of 
the  U.  S.  History,  "Aaron  Isaac,  10  Gallup  Street," 
just  as  it  appeared  in  crude  letters  on  the  side  of  the 
ragman's  cart. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Gangleshanks  curiously. 

"Mr.  Hopkins  said  how  when  we  saw  horses  that 
didn't  look  right  to  find  who  owned  'em  an'  turn  in 
the  names  to  the  teacher." 

"Well,  come  along.  Gee  whiz,  we'll  never  get 
started." 


[6] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    HIGH    COST    OF    PHILANTHROPY 

They  continued  without  further  interruption  until 
they  came  to  a  large  brick  house.  The  shades  were 
all  drawn  and  there  was  a  sign  on  the  verandah  an 
nouncing  that  it  was  for  sale.  "We  got  to  look  out 
now,"  warned  Gangleshanks,  "or  we'll  get  spotted." 

They  looked  up  and  down  the  street.  There  was 
nothing  more  alarming  than  a  butcher  wagon  drawn 
up  against  the  curb  half  a  block  away.  Turning  in 
the  driveway  they  walked  quickly  past  the  house  to 
the  yard.  The  lot  was  a  deep  one,  sloping  back 
several  hundred  feet  and  terminating  in  a  tumble 
down  brick  barn. 

Beany  picked  up  a  piece  of  wood  and  pounded  five 
times  with  it  on  the  barn  door,  three  times  slowly, 
twice  very  quickly.  A  smaller  door,  cut  into  one 
of  the  panels  of  the  large  one,  was  opened 
cautiously.  A  fat,  dirty  face  peered  out.  "Pu- 
pu-password,"  it  whispered. 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks  exchanged  glances. 
[7] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

They  both  shook  their  heads.  "We  forgot,"  ex 
plained  Beany.  "Come  on,  Tub.  Let 's  in  before 
somebody  sees  us." 

"No  pu-pu-password.  Stu-stu-stay  out."  Before 
Beany  had  time  to  shove  his  stick  in  the  door  it  was 
shut.  There  was  the  sound  of  an  iron  hook  being 
dropped  into  place. 

"You  let  us  in,  Tub  Hemingway,  or  you'll  wish 
you  was  dead,"  cried  the  outraged  Beany,  speaking 
with  his  mouth  very  close  to  the  door. 

"Why  du-du-don't  y'  gimme  th'  pu-pu-password 
then?  How  du-du-do  I  know  who  y'  are?"  asked  a 
muffled  voice  from  the  other  side. 

The  two  ousted  members  held  a  short  discussion. 
Then  they  crept  quietly  around  the  corner  of  the 
barn  where  there  was  a  space  of  about  two  feet 
between  the  fence  and  the  side  wall,  the  burial  place 
of  tin  cans  and  broken  flower  pots.  In  the  center 
of  the  wall  was  a  window.  Beany  raised  it  and 
they  crawled  in  through  a  barrage  of  rubbish.  The 
window,  long  separated  from  its  weights,  fell  with  a 
crash  behind  them. 

"Shut  up,"  hissed  Beany.  "We  want  t'  catch  that 
Tub  alive  an'  murder  him." 

If  the  Tub  was  not  aware  of  their  presence  he 
[8] 


AND  THE  TUB 

must  have  been  deaf.  There  was  no  sound,  how 
ever,  but  the  creaking  of  the  rotten  floor  under 
their  feet.  The  interior  of  the  barn  was  dark  ex 
cept  for  a  few  rays  of  grey  light  which  crowded 
through  the  dirty  window.  There  was  an  oppressive 
odor  of  old  harness,  dust,  rotting  oats,  mice  and 
mildewed  seat  cushions.  The  floor  was  littered  with 
empty  cans  and  broken  boxes.  An  archaic  sleigh, 
covered  with  a  sheet,  stood  in  the  rear  of  the  barn, 
its  shafts  suspended  from  the  ceiling  by  slings. 

From  underneath  the  sheet  came  the  unmistak 
able  sound  of  a  desperately  muffled  sneeze.  They 
dragged  the  unfortunate  Tub  from  his  hiding  place. 
Then,  laying  him  on  the  floor,  they  proceeded  to 
sit  on  his  stomach  and  tickle  him.  This  was  a 
method,  known  as  "The  Cure,"  by  which  Beany  and 
Gangleshanks  had  kept  the  Tub  in  a  state  of  grovel 
ing  subjection  since  the  day  they  had  discovered 
that  his  ribs  were  his  vulnerable  point. 

The  operation  was  accompanied  by  howls  of 
agony.  "Put  his  cap  over  his  mouth,"  directed 
Beany.  "He'll  have  everybody  in  town  around." 

Gangleshanks  complied.  The  howling  became 
indistinct  and  spluttering.  "I'll  'e  'ood.  I'll  'e 
'ood,"  filtered  through  the  cap  between  screams. 

[9] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Gangleshanks  slowly  removed  the  covering.  Beany 
left  off  massaging  the  Tub's  ribs  and  rose  from  his 
stomach. 

"Wha-wha-what's  th'  idear?"  cried  the  Tub  in 
dignantly,  beating  clouds  of  dust  from  his  trousers. 

"Why  didn't  y'  leave  us  in?"  asked  Gangleshanks 
sullenly. 

"Y'  didn'  have  no  pu-pu-pu-password." 

"Well,  how  can  we  give  you  the  password  when 
we  forgot  it?" 

"Y'  oughtn't  to  fu-fu-forget." 

"What's  th'  sense  in  that?  Golly  day,  you  can't 
help  forgetting  a  thing.  If  you  forget  it  you  forget 
it,  an'  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"Shucks.  Let's  get  goin'  an'  fix  this  place  up," 
said  Gangleshanks,  bored  by  this  legal  controversy. 
"Gee  whiz,  we'll  never  get  started  if  we  don't  get 
goin'."  He  unhooked  the  small  front  door  and 
opened  it,  relieving  the  gloom. 

"Golly  day,  this  is  a  slick  place."  Beany  looked 
admiringly  about  at  the  cobwebbed  walls.  "We 
can  fix  it  up  great.  Look.  It's  got  stalls  an'  every 
thing." 

"This  is  the  cu-cu-club  room,"  explained  the  Tub, 
pushing  back  the  door  of  a  large  box  stall. 

[10] 


AND  THE  TUB 

The  club  room  had  been  used  for  years  as  a 
repository  for  old  boxes  and  a  home  for  young  mice. 
After  about  an  hour  of  hard  labor,  however,  the 
boxes  were  removed  and  the  full  possibilities  of  the 
box  stall  revealed. 

"The  nex'  thing  we  need's  a  couch,"  said  Beany 
thoughtfully,  sitting  down  on  the  last  box  and 
wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  face  with  a  smudgy 
sleeve.  "A  place  where  we  can  lie  an'  read." 

"We  can't  all  lie  an'  read  on  one  couch,"  objected 
the  practical  Gangleshanks. 

"Golly  day,  we  can  take  turns  'til  we  get  more, 
can't  we?" 

"You  got  to  gu-gu-get  the  cu-cu-couch.  I  got  the 
bu-bu-barn,"  said  the  Tub. 

"Before  we  go  lookin'  for  the  couch  we  ought  to 
'lect  ossifers,"  suggested  Gangleshanks. 

"I  ought  to  be  pu-pu-president,"  said  the  Tub 
sullenly. 

"You !    Why  so,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"Caw-caw-cause  I  got  th'  barn." 

"  'Tain't  your  barn." 

"  'Sfu-fu-father's,  though." 

"Yes,  but  you  know  what  you'd  get  if  he  caught 


on  you  was  usin'  it." 


EH] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Wouldn't  gu-gu-get  nothin'.  Just  as  soon  t-t-tell 
him." 

"You  can  be  treasury,"  suggested  Beany. 

"I'm  goin'  t'  be  pu-pu-president." 

Beany  looked  at  Gangleshanks  significantly.  They 
approached  the  ill-fated  candidate  from  opposite 
sides  and  seized  him  by  the  arms.  At  the  thought 
of  a  repetition  of  the  Cure  he  crumpled  into  an 
incoherent  mass  at  their  feet. 

"Aw,  quit  y'r  foolin',  will  yo'?  Cut  it  out,  you 
fellas.  You'll  bu-bu-be  sorry  soon's  I  ge-ge-get  up." 
This  brought  forth  a  burst  of  derision.  "Cu-cu-come 
on.  Be  d-d-decent,  can't  you?"  His  complaints 
merged  into  hysterical  laughter  and  groans. 

"Who's  pres'dent?"  asked  Beany,  giving  his  ribs 
a  special  admonitory  dig. 

"Yo-yo-you,"  gasped  the  Tub. 

"What's  that?"  Gangleshanks  renewed  his  own 
efforts. 

"No,  no,  yo-yo-you,"  groaned  the  tortured  victim 
of  machine  politics.  Whereupon  Beany,  perceiving 
the  nucleus  of  an  interesting  game,  applied  both 
hands  to  his  work. 

"Bu-bu-bu-bu-both." 

"Only  you're  not." 

[12] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"N-n-no.     Oh,  Lord!" 

"Let  him  up." 

The  defeated  candidate  rose  to  his  feet  and  once 
more  pounded  the  dust  from  his  trousers.  "Yo-yo- 
you  fellas  think  you're  fu-fu-funny,  don't  you,"  he 
said  in  an  aggrieved  tone.  "I  wouldn't  be  pu-pu- 
president  of  your  ol'  club." 

"I  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  Beany,  perceiv 
ing  a  deadlock  and  anxious  to  avoid  it  before  it 
became  a  matter  of  pride.  "I'll  be  pres'dent  one 
week  an'  you  can  be  the  nex',  Gangleshanks." 

"Wha-wha-what  am  I?"  The  greed  for  power 
was  stronger  than  the  Cure. 

"You're  members,"  said  Gangleshanks.  "You 
ought  to  be  awful  glad  to  be  in  the  club  at  all." 

Parliamentary  business  out  of  the  way  the  matter 
of  interior  decoration  came  once  more  to  the  front. 
Beany  suddenly  remembered  an  old  horsehair  sofa 
which  had  long  reposed  in  his  attic.  He  felt  sure 
that  his  mother  would  be  glad  to  give  it  to  them. 
He  had  such  strong  convictions  on  this  that  although 
he  knew  she  was  out  he  felt  perfectly  safe  in  taking 
it  anyway.  In  fact,  as  he  told  Gangleshanks,  it  was 
just  as  well  that  she  was  out.  He  hated  to  bother 
her  about  such  things.  She  had  so  much  in  her 

[13] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

mind.  He  suggested  that  they  hurry.  She  might 
return  at  any  moment.  Beany  had  suddenly  become 
very  considerate. 

"Let's  leave  Tub  here  to  clean  up.  He'll  just  be 
in  the  way." 

The  Tub  was  not  averse  to  this  arrangement. 
Walking  and  carrying  things  for  long  distances 
bored  him.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  went  around 
by  Walnut  street  in  order  to  purchase  a  confection 
known  as  "Penny  Whoppers."  These  were  dis 
pensed  by  one  Mrs.  McGruder  for  one  and  a  half 
cents  each.  She  explained  the  disparity  between  the 
price  and  the  name  by  referring  vaguely  to  a  "war 
tax."  They  passed  the  time  of  day  with  Mrs.  Mc 
Gruder  and  put  the  "Penny  Whoppers"  in  their 
cheeks  to  be  drawn  upon  from  time  to  time  in  succu- 
ilent  drafts. 

Suddenly  Beany  stopped  and  examined  something 
which  lay  in  the  grass  beside  the  walk.  He  straight 
ened  up  holding  in  his  hand  an  object  which  looked 
like  a  dead  silver  snake. 

"Wha'd'y  s'pose  that  is?"  he  asked. 

Gangleshanks  examined  it  curiously.  "I  know," 
he  exclaimed.  "A  necklace.  A  pearl  necklace.  Sis- 


AND  THE  TUB 

ter's  got  one  like  it.  Gee  whiz,  they're  worth  a 
wagon  of  money." 

Beany  looked  up  and  down  the  deserted  street. 
"Who  d'y  s'pose  lost  it?" 

"Don't  know.    Think  we'd  better  leave  it  there  ?" 

"No  sense  in  that.  Golly  day,  if  we  can't  find  who 
owns  it  findin's  keepin'." 

There  was  no  one  in  sight  but  the  postman.  Ob 
viously  he  hadn't  dropped  it.  "Think  we  ought  t' 
keep  it?"  asked  Gangleshanks  doubtfully. 

"Sure.     Why  not?    No  sense  throwin'  it  away." 

"Wonder  what  it's  worth?" 

"Don'  know.     'N'awful  lot." 

"S'pose  it's  worth  five  dollars?" 

"More'n  that,  I  guess." 

"Gee  whizz,  that  would  buy  about  a  million  Penny 
Whoppers."  At  this  thought  Gangleshanks  threw 
back  his  head  and  with  half-closed  eyes  began  con 
sidering  a  new  life  based  on  such  an  ownership. 

"I  know  what  we'll  do  with  it."  Beany  stopped, 
overcome  by  the  audacity  of  his  inspiration.  "We'll 
buy  that  horse." 

"What  horse?"  asked  Gangleshanks,  amazed. 

"The  ragman's." 

"Wha'  for?" 

[151 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Oh,  I  do'  know.  It's  awful  old  an'  oughtn't  to 
work  any  more.  We  could  keep  it  in  Tub's  barn  an' 
give  it  a  good  home.  It  would  be  awful  good  fun 
ownin'  a  horse  all  by  ourselves." 

"Might  be  at  that,"  agreed  Gangleshanks,  rather 
impressed  by  the  idea.  "How  yo'  goin'  t'  find  it, 
though?" 

"Remember  his  address.  Ten  Gallup  street. 
Lucky  I  wrote  it  down." 

"Let's  go  down  now."  Gangleshanks  was  dis 
tinctly  a  man  of  action.  "If  we  hang  around  here 
we  might  find  who  owns  the  thing." 

Gallup  street  might  have  been  in  Asia  Minor  for 
all  that  Beany  or  Gangleshanks  knew  of  it.  Geog 
raphy  seemed  about  to  thwart  their  plans  when  a 
large  policeman  strolled  into  view  enjoying  the  hot 
afternoon  sunshine. 

"Let's  ask  him,"  said  Beany. 

"Not  the  cop !"  exclaimed  Gangleshanks  aghast. 

"Sure.    He  won't  do  anything  to  you." 

"Gee  whizz,  you  got  nerve,"  said  Gangleshanks 
admiringly. 


[16] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  III 

HIGHLIGHTS  AND  TWILIGHTS  IN  GALLUP  STREET 

Neither  Beany  nor  Gangleshanks  had  ever  been 
so  far  from  home  before.  Nor  had  either  of  them 
ever  seen  a  street  just  like  Gallup.  It  was  narrow 
and  the  houses  on  either  side  were  joined  together 
by  ropes  from  which  hung  all  manner  of  clothes, 
mostly  of  a  confidential  nature.  These  flapped 
slowly  back  and  forth  giving  the  street  a  dismal 
holiday  appearance.  After  struggling  along  for 
several  hundred  yards  Gallup  street  gave  up  the 
attempt  and  ended  weak-he  a  rtedly  in  a  brick  wall. 

Number  ten  was  precisely  the  same  as  number 
eight  and  nine  except  that  beside  the  door  was 
nailed  a  board  announcing  to  the  world  that  "Isaac 
Aaron"  was  a  "Vendir."  Beside  the  door  was  an 
archway.  This  gave  entrance  to  a  gloomy  passage 
terminating  in  a  pile  of  broken  boxes.  Here,  it 
might  be  supposed,  Mr.  Aaron  maintained  his 
stables. 

[171 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

The  younger  generation  of  Gallup  street  was 
abroad  enjoying  such  air  as  filtered  through  the 
flapping  clothes.  It  stopped  to  gaze  curiously  at 
Beany  and  Gangleshanks.  Number  ten  had  no  door 
bell,  so  they  knocked,  politely  at  first,  then  more 
boldly  as  their  efforts  met  with  no  response.  They 
had  become  absorbed  in  this  pastime  when  they  were 
startled  by  a  woman's  head  which  popped  out  of  a 
window  beside  the  door.  "Veil,  veil,  veil,  veil,  veil," 
she  repeated  impatiently. 

"We  want  to  see  Mr.  Aaron,  ma'am,"  explained 
Beany  politely. 

"Veil,  he  ain't  here."  The  head  started  to  dis 
appear. 

"When'll  he  get  back?"  asked  Gangleshanks. 

"Ven  he  gets  here." 

"Can  we  wait?" 

"Vy  should  I  care?"  The  woman  gave  them  a 
curious  stare  and  withdrew  her  head.  The  window 
shut  with  a  bang. 

They  sat  down  on  the  steps  to  wait.  Gallup  street 
sensed  the  unusual.  Its  inhabitants  were  constantly 
on  the  lookout  for  just  such  a  condition.  The  street 
ceased  its  sports  and  formed  a  cordon  about  the 
steps.  Nothing  happened,  so  they  found  comfort- 

[18] 


AND  THE  TUB 

able  positions  and  patiently  awaited  developments. 
The  two  principal  actors  became  decidedly  ill  at 
ease. 

This  candid  inspection  finally  became  unendurable 
to  Beany.  "See  any  green?"  he  demanded  of  a 
rangy  youth  whose  trousers  were  suspended  rakishly 
by  a  piece  of  string  slung  after  the  manner  of  a 
Sam  Brown  belt. 

"Some  green  an'  some  yaller,"  replied  the  young 
man  hitching  the  string  to  a  more  secure  position 
on  his  shoulder. 

The  crowd  considered  this  a  rare  bit  of  repartee. 
It  jeered  its  approval  and  crowded  closer.  The 
action  had  begun. 

" 'S'y'r  mommer  know  y'r  out?"  asked  a  voice 
from  the  back  of  the  circle. 

"I'll  mommer  you,"  said  Beany  defiantly  although 
he  did  not  feel  too  confident  of  it  in  his  heart. 

"Y'r  nurse'll  be  lookin'  for  y',"  remarked  the 
rangy  boy. 

Beany's  hands  opened  and  shut  convulsively.  The 
odds  were  hopelessly  against  him,  but  his  temper 
was  oozing  fast.  It  was  growing  dusk.  Workmen 
were  returning  to  Gallup  street,  their  dinner  pails 
in  hand.  They  stopped  and  pushed  their  way 

[19] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

through  the  crowd  in  the  forlorn  hope  that  there 
might  have  been  an  accident.  The  rangy  boy  grew 
bolder.  Egged  on  by  applause  he  stepped  forward 
and  pulled  off  Beany's  cap  which  he  held  up  to  his 
delighted  audience.  "Ain't  it  purty?"  he  remarked. 

This  was  too  much  for  Beany.  Seizing  the  cap, 
he  proceeded  to  execute  the  gesture  known  in  sport 
ing  circles  as  "planting  a  well-aimed  blow"  just  west 
of  the  point  where  the  rangy  boy's  trousers  received 
the  support  of  the  string.  Gallup  street  gave  tongue 
and  pressed  closer.  They  wished  to  be  in  at  the 
death. 

Just  what  the  result  might  have  been  is  uncertain 
had  not  the  crowd  been  split  at  this  moment  by  the 
head  and  shoulders  of  an  old  grey  horse.  At  the 
sight  of  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  a  glimmer  of  rec 
ognition  seemed  to  cross  his  tired  brain.  He  bared 
his  teeth  and  indulged  in  one  of  those  silent  laughs 
which  had  so  fascinated  his  self-appointed  pro 
tectors  in  the  first  place.  The  ragman  was  stand 
ing  up  in  his  seat  making  violent  swings  with  a  stick 
which  did  no  great  damage  to  anyone.  Life  had 
made  nimbleness  a  prerequisite  in  the  street. 

"Out  o'  my  vay,"  roared  Mr.  Aaron.  "Out  o' 
my  vay,  y'  gutterbred,  louse-ridden  sons  o'  t'ieves." 

[20] 


AND  THE  TUB 

With  which  neighborly  greeting  he  rode  through  the 
mob  and  passed  under  the  archway  beside  his  front 
door.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks,  accepting  the  dis 
cretion  versus  valor  theory,  took  refuge  behind  his 
tailboard  and  followed  closely. 

"Ged  oud  o'  here,"  bellowed  the  ragman,  per 
ceiving  them.  "Ged  oud,  y'  low-lived  hunkies." 

"We  wanted  to  see  you,"  explained  Beany,  mak 
ing  himself  as  small  as  possible  behind  the  wagon. 

"On  business,"  added  Gangleshanks.  They  both 
wished  from  the  bottoms  of  their  hearts  that  they 
were  back  on  Walnut  street.  The  word  business, 
however,  immediately  roused  a  racial  instinct  in 
the  ragman. 

"Vat  for  bus'ness?"  he  asked  contemptuously. 

"We  want  to  buy  your  horse." 

"Ged  oud,"  cried  Mr.  Aaron,  sensing  a  joke. 
"Get  oud  before  I  wring  the  heads  from  your  body 
off." 

At  this  terrible  threat  Gangleshanks  backed  away 
several  paces.  Beany  stood  his  ground  behind  the 
tailboard.  Seeing  this  Gangleshanks  stopped  also 
and  assumed  a  bolder  front. 

"We  do,  though."  Beany  put  his  hand  in  his 
[21] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

pocket  and  drew  out  the  necklace.  "We  want  to 
trade  this  for  your  horse." 

There  was  still  light  enough  in  the  passage  for 
the  ragman  to  perceive  the  string  of  stones  in 
Beany's  hand.  He  became  interested  and  descend 
ing  from  his  wagon  took  them  and  examined  them 
in  the  gloom.  Then  he  looked  sharply  at  the  boys 
from  under  his  bushy  eyebrows.  "From  vere  you 
gome  by  dese?"  he  asked. 

"Found  'em,"  explained  Beany. 

"An'  vat  you  vant  to  do  by  'em?" 

"Swap  'em  for  your  horse." 

Once  more  Mr.  Aaron  examined  them  with  his 
beady  eyes.  "Gome  id,"  he  said.  His  tone  had 
completely  changed.  He  opened  a  door  in  the  alley 
and  they  stepped  into  a  room  lit  by  an  uneven  gas 
light.  It  was  a  large  room  and  apparently  served 
as  a  living  room,  dining  room,  kitchen,  bedroom,  of 
fice  and  warehouse.  In  one  corner  was  a  stove 
around  which  the  woman  with  the  tousled  hair 
hovered  like  a  vulture.  A  double  iron  bed  stood  in 
another  corner.  An  uncertain  table  and  three  dis 
couraged  chairs  adorned  the  center.  Every  other 
available  space  was  taken  up  with  burlap  bags 
stuffed  with  the  results  of  Mr.  Aaron's  collecting 

[22] 


AND  THE  TUB 

habits.  They  were  piled  high  along  the  walls  and 
even  pushed  under  the  bed.  They  filled  the  room 
with  a  stale,  musty  odor  which  struggled  for  su 
premacy  with  the  smell  of  hot  garlic  from  the  stove. 

Mrs.  Aaron  greeted  her  better  half  with  a  loving 
grunt.  Then  noticing  the  two  visitors  she  turned 
curiously.  Mr.  Aaron  examined  the  necklace  under 
the  gas  light.  His  wife  left  her  cooking  to  look 
over  his  shoulder.  Then  they  both  turned  to  stare 
at  the  boys. 

"From  vere  you  haf  god  dese?"  asked  Mr.  Aaron 
again. 

"We  found  'em,"  said  Beany,  wishing  very  hard 
that  he  had  not. 

"An'  vatvilly'  do  by 'em?" 

"Your  grey  horse." 

There  was  a  whispered  conversation.  Mr.  Aaron 
examined  the  necklace  minutely  under  the  light. 
"All  righd,"  he  agreed  finally.  "Vaid.  I  untie  him 
from  d'  vagon." 

He  disappeared  through  the  doorway.  Beany 
and  Gangleshanks,  after  meeting  the  unflinching 
gaze  of  Mrs.  Aaron  for  a  moment,  turned  and  bolted 
after  him.  It  was  almost  dark.  The  young  folk  of 
Gallup  street  were  occupied  with  their  evening  meal. 

[23] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

They  led  the  old  grey  mare  away  with  a  feeling 
that  during  the  last  half  hour  the  world  had  changed 
and  would  never  be  the  same  tranquil,  orderly  place 
again. 


[24] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE     DIFFICULTIES     OF     MAINTAINING     A     MODERN 

STABLE 

It  was  a  long  walk  from  Gallup  to  Walnut  street. 
Part  of  the  distance  was  covered  at  a  trot.  Beany 
pulled  at  the  frayed  halter  shank  in  front  while 
Gangleshanks  urged  from  the  rear  with  a  barrel 
stave.  The  grey  horse  had  not  been  so  pushed  in 
years.  He  resented  it. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  barn  the  Tub  had  left. 
They  tied  the  horse  to  a  ring  just  inside  the  door 
and  hurried  home.  Mrs.  Fleming  was  waiting  on 
the  porch  when  Beany  came  panting  up  through  the 
dusk. 

"James  Fleming,"  she  said.  "Do  you  know  that 
you're  three  quarters  of  an  hour  late  for  supper? 
Where  have  you  been?  Your  father's  been  tele 
phoning  everywhere  for  you." 

"Oh,  mother!"  Beany  used  his  most  persecuted 
voice.  "How  silly!  I  just  been  foolin'  round  with 
Gangleshanks  an'  we  forgot  all  about  the  time." 

[25] 


"Forgot  all  about  the  time  indeed  when  it's  almost 
dark.  Where  have  you  been  fooling?" 

"Oh,  just  all  over,  mother.  Golly  day,  I  can't 
remember  every  little  place  I  been  all  day." 

"James!"  Mr.  Fleming  stuck  his  head  out  of 
the  library  door.  "Where  have  you  been  until  this 
hour?" 

"Golly  day,  father,  how " 

"James!  Where  have  you  been?"  Beany  recog 
nized  a  tone  which  demanded  an  explicit  answer. 

"Well,  if  you  got  to  know  everything  I  do,  I  went 
to  school  this  mornin'  an'  at  recess  I  fooled  round  in 
the  yard  an'  after  recess  I  went  back  into  school 
again  an' " 

"Nonsense.  You  know  what  I  mean.  Where 
have  you  been  this  afternoon  that  you're  so  late?" 

"Makin'  a  club,"  replied  Beany  desperately. 

"Making  a  club?"    Mr.  Fleming  was  puzzled. 

"Buildin'  a  club,"  explained  Beany.  "Me  an' 
some  other  fellas  is  buildin'  a  club." 

"Where?"  asked  Mr.  Fleming. 

"Golly  day,  father,  I  can't  tell  you  that.  It's  a 
secret  club.  We  just  plain  got  interested  an'  forgot 
supper." 

Mr.  Fleming  prided  himself  on  understanding 

[26] 


AND  THE  TUB 

little  boys.  He  had  never  quite  grown  up  himself 
and  felt,  therefore,  a  bond  of  sympathy  with  them. 
Beany  knew  this  instinctively  and  threw  himself  on 
his  father's  mercy. 

"I  can't  tell  you  without  breakin'  my  word,"  he 
said.  "You  wouldn't  want  me  to  break  my  word." 

"I  guess  it's  all  right,  Grace."  Mr.  Fleming 
turned  to  his  wife  who  was  still  standing  doubtfully 
in  the  doorway.  "It's  no  excuse  for  being  late  to 
dinner  though.  Your  mother's  been  worried  to 
death.  I  don't  want  this  to  happen  again.  Go  up 
now  and  wash.  Hurry." 

A  great  load  was  lifted  from  Beany's  mind.  The 
crisis  was  over.  During  the  course  of  the  meal  he 
tactfully  directed  the  conversation  to  school  topics; 
the  baseball  team  which  he  felt  sure  of  making;  his 
certain  prospects  of  high  standing  in  his  class;  the 
talk  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hopkins.  By  dessert  things 
were  running  with  unhoped-for  smoothness. 

Dinner  over,  Mr.  Fleming  settled  down  to  the 
evening  paper.  "I  think,"  said  Beany,  "I'll  just  run 
across  the  street  and  speak  to  Gangleshanks  a 
minute." 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  his  father  replied 
calmly.  "You'll  study  your  lessons  for  Monday." 

[27] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"But  it'll  only  take  a  minute,"  urged  Beany,  his 
mind  on  the  grey  horse  standing  lonely  and  supper- 
less  in  the  barn.  "I  got  something  important  to  talk 
to  him  about." 

"It  isn't  so  important  it  won't  keep  till  tomorrow," 
said  Mrs.  Fleming. 

"But,  mother,  you  don't  know.  Golly  day,  you  say 
it's  not  important  and  you  don't  know  what  it  is." 

"For  pity  sake  don't  talk  so  much  about  it."  It 
annoyed  Mr.  Fleming  to  be  disturbed  while  he  read 
the  evening  paper.  "Do  as  your  mother  says.  And 
don't  start  every  sentence  with  'golly  day.'  It 
doesn't  mean  anything." 

"But,  father,  golly  day,  I  only  wanted " 

"Beany,  didn't  you  hear  your  father  speaking  to 
you?" 

"Gol "  Beany  flung  himself  into  a  chair  be 
hind  the  library  table,  pulled  the  hated  books  toward 
him  and  stared  at  the  green-shaded  lamp.  There 
was  a  long  silence.  "Couldn't  I  just  run  over  to 
Gangleshanks  for  about  ten  minutes?  I  won't  be 
gone  a  minute." 

"No!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fleming.  "We've  heard 
enough  on  that  subject  now.  Get  busy  with  your 
lessons." 

[28] 


AND  THE  TUB 

Beany  sat  with  his  head  between  his  hands  ap 
parently  studying  with  all  his  might.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  he  was  bemoaning  the  fate  which  ever 
brought  him  face  to  face  with  the  laughing  horse. 
His  enthusiasm  for  the  Rev.  Thaddeus  Hopkins 
grew  stone  cold.  It  was  one  thing  to  preach  kind 
ness,  another  and  far  more  difficult  task  to  practice 
it.  He  wondered  if  the  Rev.  Hopkins  had  ever 
taken  a  foundling  horse  under  his  wing.  He  won 
dered  if  Gangleshanks  was  waiting  for  him.  He 
wondered  how  long  horses  could  go  without  food. 
He  wondered 

"Did  you  hear  about  Mrs.  Pardee's  necklace?" 
Mr.  Fleming  looked  over  the  top  of  the  paper  at 
his  wife. 

"No;  what  happened  to  it?" 

"Stolen  today." 

"You  don't  mean  it !    Where  was  it  taken  from?" 

"She  thinks  it  was  stolen  from  the  house.  The 
police  are  working  on  the  case.  It  was  a  very 
valuable  necklace  according  to  the  paper." 

"Yes,  I  remember  it.  Her  grandmother  left  it 
to  her.  It  must  have  beea  worth  a  fortune  today." 

"Probably.  I  hope  they  get  the  man  that  took  it. 
[29] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

This  business  of  lawbreaking's  gone  too  far.  Pretty 
soon  our  lives  won't  be  sa,fe." 

"What,"  asked  Beany,  "will  they  do  to  the  man 
that  took  it  if  they  catch  him?"  He  experienced 
the  sensations  of  a  prisoner  who  watches  the  jury 
resume  their  places. 

"Probably  fifteen  years,  and  he  deserves  thirty," 
said  Mr.  Fleming  judicially.  "Go  on  with  your 
lessons  now.  You  must  learn  to  concentrate  when 
other  people  are  talking." 

Beany  stared  at  the  open  pages  before  him.  "Fif 
teen  years  and  deserves  thirty,"  he  read.  It  was 
too  much  to  grasp  all  at  once.  In  fifteen  years  he 
would  be  a  man.  He  pictured  himself  coming  back 
to  Walnut  street  in  his  prison  suit.  Old  Nero  would 
be  waiting  for  him,  but  too  old  to  wag  his  tail.  And 
Dan,  the  butcher  boy,  would  have  a  long  beard.  He 
gained  some  satisfaction  from  the  thought  that 
Gangleshanks  would  be  with  him.  At  least  there 
wouldn't  be  any  school.  "D'y'  think  they'll  get 
'em?"  he  asked. 

"Get  whom?"  asked  Mr.  Fleming. 

"The  men  that  took  the  necklace,"  said  Beany 
surprised. 

"Certainly  they'll  get  them.  Look  here,  how  can 
[30] 


AND   THE  TUB 

you  ever  do  any  work  if  your  mind's  running  off  on 
every  tangent?" 

Beany  resumed  his  task  vainly  trying  to  picture 
a  mind  running  off  on  a  tangent.  He  found  it  diffi 
cult  to  visualize  a  tangent.  Underneath  these  sur 
face  ramblings  lay  a  vague  despair.  He  was  a  crim 
inal;  hounded  by  the  police;  liable  to  spend  most  of 
his  life  in  jail.  That  morning  he  had  been  a  free, 
ordinary  boy.  Morning,  however,  seemed  years 
and  years  ago;  part  of  another  life. 

As  he  turned  the  matter  slowly  over  in  his  be 
wildered  mind  one  thing  became  more  and  more 
clear.  In  some  way  or  other  the  laughing  horse 
must  be  returned  to  Mr.  Aaron  and  the  necklace  re 
covered.  According  to  Beany's  code  of  morals  the 
necklace  was  his  as  long  as  he  remained  in  ignorance 
of  its  proper  owner.  Now  that  that  person  had 
turned  up  it  was  a  question  in  his  mind  if  he  had  not 
actually  committed  a  theft.  The  horse  must  go  back 
the  following  morning.  Luckily  it  was  Saturday. 

"Oh,  Beans,"  a  familiar  voice  was  calling  from 
the  porch  just  outside  the  library  window. 

"Can't  I  go  out  an'  speak  to  Gangleshanks  Brace- 
worth?"  he  asked.  "He's  right  on  the  porch.  It 
won't  take  a  minute." 

[31] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Are  you  through  with  your  lessons?"  asked  the 
innocent  Mrs.  Fleming. 

"Golly  day,  mother,  you  don't  have  to  study  a 
couple  o'  years  just  to  do  a  couple  o'  sums."  Beany 
considered  direct  lying  as  wrong. 

"Well  go  ahead,  only  don't  go  any  place.  Why 
don't  you  bring  Gangleshanks  in  here?" 

"Oh,  he  doesn't  want  to  come  in  here,  mother. 
We  want  to  talk" 

"All  right.     Put  on  your  cap." 

"Oh,  mother!    Just  to  go  outside?" 

"Put  on  your  cap  or  you  can't  go  out." 

"For  heaven  sake  don't  argue  about  everything 
that  is  suggested!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fleming. 

"Golly  day!"  Beany  disappeared  through  the 
door.  Gangleshanks  was  waiting  outside. 

"Have  you  heard?"  he  asked.  Ganglesha;nks 
had.  They  discussed  the  news  in  awed  whispers. 
It  was  obvious  that  the  horse  must  go  back.  Beany- 
outlined  his  plan  for  getting  him  out  through  the 
alley  the  following  morning.  What  to  do  with  the 
necklace  when  they  recovered  it  from  the  ragman 
raised  a  new  problem.  They  finally  decided  to  drop 
it  in  the  grass  where  it  was  originally  discovered, 
then  find  it  all  over  again. 

[32] 


AND  THE  TUB 

The  next  thing  to  be  decided  was  the  matter  of 
feeding.  "Gee  whizz,  I  never  knew  a  horse  was  so 
much  trouble.  I  don't  see  what  y'  wanted  th'  ol' 
thing  for  in  the  first  place." 

"I  didn't  want  it.     It  was  you  that  wanted  it." 

"Me !"  exclaimed  Gangleshanks  amazed.  "I 
should  say  not.  I  didn'  want  th'  ol'  horse.  Not  me. 
Oh  no." 

The  cornerstone  of  an  argument  had  been  laid. 
Further  building  was  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Fleming, 
who  appeared  in  the  doorway  shading  her  eyes  from 
the  hall  light.  "Won't  you  come  in,  Gangleshanks  ?" 

"Oh  no,  ma'am.  I  got  to  go  right  home.  I  just 
came  over  to  talk  to  Beany  about  something." 

"Don't  stay  too  long,  then.  It's  most  bedtime, 
Beany."  She  reentered  the  house,  leaving  them 
alone  once  more. 

"Gee  whizz,  you  got  to  go  to  bed  early,"  re 
marked  Gangleshanks  contemptuously. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  replied  the  chagrined 
Beany.  "That  don't  mean  nothin'.  I  can  stay  up's 
long's  I  want." 

A  whistle  from  one  of  the  houses  across  the  street 
interrupted  them.  "Oh,  Harry,"  called  a  male 
voice.  "Come  on  now.  Hurry  up." 

[33] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Gee  whizz,"  muttered  Gangleshanks.  "Oh,  all 
right."  He  threw  into  his  voice  all  the  weariness 
which  can  be  conveyed  in  a  shout.  They  agreed 
to  meet  right  after  breakfast,  feed  the  old  horse  and 
escort  him  to  his  Gallup  street  home. 


[34] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  V 

DOWN  BUT  BY  NO  MEANS  OUT 

The  following  morning  they  were  abroad  unusu 
ally  early  even  for  Saturday.  They  went  at  once 
to  the  barn,  stopping  for  the  Tub  on  the  way.  The 
latter's  eyes  popped  visibly  when  he  heard  the  story. 
"Gu-gu-gosh !"  he  exclaimed  sympathetically.  "You 
fellas  are  in  for  it  n-n-n-now." 

"Wha'd'y'  mean  when  y'  say  'You  fellas?'  "  asked 
Gangleshanks  suspiciously.  "Why  don't  you  say 
'we're  in  for  it?'  ' 

"Caw-caw-cause  I  ain't  got  nothin'  t'  do  with  it." 

"You  got  just  as  much  as  we  have." 

"N-n-no  I  ain't." 

"It's  your  barn,  isn't  it?" 

"That  du-du-don't  make  no  d-d-difference." 

Beany  glanced  at  Gangleshanks.  The  Tub  un 
derstood  the  look  and  folded  his  arms  instinctively 
over  his  ribs.  "Lu-lu-look  out  now,  you  fu-fu-fu- 
fellows,"  he  warned. 

[351 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"I  guess  we'll  have  to,  Tub,"  said  Beany  sorrow 
fully.  Whereupon  they  laid  the  helpless  Mr.  Hem 
ingway  on  the  grass  beside  the  walk  and  proceeded 
to  convince  him  of  the  truth  of  their  arguments. 
The  Tub's  howls  for  help  resounded  up  and  down 
the  street  unanswered. 

"Oh  Lu-Lu-Lord!  Look  out  what  y'r  doin', 
will  y'?" 

"Who's  in  trouble?"  asked  Beany,  shifting  one 
knee  from  the  Tub's  stomach  to  his  chest. 

"I  am,"  wailed  the  Tub,  and  his  voice  carried  a 
true  ring. 

"Who's  to  blame  for  this  whole  thing?"  de 
manded  Gangleshanks,  sensing  a  solution  to  the 
problem. 

"I-I-I  am.  Oh,  Lu-Lu-Lord!  Cut  it  out,  will 
you.  Gu-gu-gosh,  what  do  you  fu-fu-fellows 

think Ouch!  Oh,  du-du-don't."  The  Tub 

went  into  fits  of  agonized  laughter. 

They  released  him.  He  arose  and  made  a  per 
functory  attempt  to  brush  the  grass  stains  from  his 
clothes.  "Gu-gu-golly,  you  fu-fu-fellas  think  you're 
smart,"  he  remarked.  This  was  ignored.  The  trio 
proceeded  amicably  on  their  mission. 

They  opened  the  door  of  the  barn  and  squeezed 
[36] 


AND  THE  TUB 

through.  At  first  they  were  unable  to  penetrate 
the  gloom.  Then,  as  their  eyes  became  more  accus 
tomed  to  it,  they  failed  to  see  the  grey  horse. 

"He's  gone,"   said  Beany  aghast. 

"Look."      Gangleshanks  was  pointing. 

Beany  looked  down  at  his  feet  and  started  back. 
He  was  staring  straight  into  the  smiling  features  of 
the  grey  horse  whose  head  was  on  a  level  with  the 
floor.  It  was  standing  quietly  and  unharmed  in 
what  was  apparently  a  shallow  cellar  of  the  barn. 
About  its  feet  was  a  litter  of  boards  and  splinters; 
the  wreckage  of  the  floor.  At  the  moment  the 
laughing  horse  was  busily  engaged  in  devouring 
what  remained  of  the  flooring,  evidently  under  the 
impression  that  the  quickest  means  of  escape  was  by 
eating  his  prison. 

The  conspirators  looked  at  one  another  in  dismay. 
A  hasty  examination  showed  the  cellar  to  be  a  small 
four-foot  affair  with  no  other  entrance  than  through 
a  trap  door  cut  in  the  floor  of  the  barn.  If  the 
grey  horse  had  been  put  in  a  steel  safe  and  the 
combination  thrown  away  it  could  not  have  been 
more  securely  caged. 

"Looks  like  we  got  to  keep  him  the  rest  of  our 
lives."  There  was  a  gloomy  fatalism  in  Beany's 

[37] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

voice.  At  this  moment  the  horse  threw  back  his 
head  and  baring  his  teeth  gave  vent  to  one  of  his 
long,  silent  laughs. 

"It's  your  fault,  Tub.  If  you  didn't  have  such  a 
rotten  ol'  barn  we  could  'a'  taken  the  ol'  horse  back. 
Now  we  can't  ever  take  it  back." 

"I  d-d-didn't  ask  y'  to  put  it  there,"  said  the  Tub, 
paving  the  way  for  another  punishment. 

"Now  that  we  got  to  feed  it  all  the  rest  of  our 
lives  what  're  we  goin'  t'  feed  it  on?"  Beany  had 
reached  the  point  where  he  enjoyed  making  things 
sound  as  complex  as  possible. 

"Perhaps  it's  thirsty,"  suggested  Gangleshanks. 
They  found  an  old  pail  full  of  tin  cans.  When 
emptied  it  held  water  fairly  well.  They  lowered 
a  pailful  into  the  cellar  on  the  end  of  a  rope.  The 
horse  drank  greedily  and  muzzled  the  pail  in  its 
search  for  more.  Three  times  they  filled  it  and 
three  times  the  grey  horse  sucked  it  up  like  a  foun 
tain  pen  filler. 

Having  drunk  the  horse  heaved  a  deep  sigh  and 
laughed  up  at  them  contentedly.  The  next  thing 
was  to  feed  him.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  turned 
to  Tub.  His  father  had  the  distinction  of  being 
the  only  man  in  town  who  kept  carriage  horses. 

[38] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"What  do  horses  eat?"  asked  Beany. 

"Oats,"  replied  the  Tub  promptly,  proud  at  being 
referred  to. 

"How  many?"  asked  Gangleshanks. 

"Oats  du-du-don't  come  by  the  many,"  explained 
the  Tub.  "They  come  by  the  bu-bu-bu-bu " 

"Bag?"  suggested  Gangleshanks  impatiently. 
"Well,  how  many  bags?" 

"It  du-du-depends  on  the  horse,"  said  Tub 
vaguely,  not  having  the  slightest  idea. 

"Where  we  goin'  to  get  the  oats?"  asked  Beany. 

"How  about  Tub  here?  There's  plenty  in  his 
barn." 

"Why  p-p-pick  on  me?"  complained  the  Tub. 
"How'm  I  goin'  t'  get'm?" 

"  'Cause  you  got  to,"  said  Beany  threateningly. 
The  Tub  folded  his  elbows  over  his  ribs. 

"Yu-yu-you  fellas  ha'  got  t'  help  me  then,"  he 
said  sullenly. 

They  trudged  over  to  the  Hemingway  barn.  Old 
Patrick,  who  had  for  years  resisted  the  temptation 
to  become  a  chauffeur,  was  hitching  the  bays  into 
the  brougham.  Mrs.  Hemingway  was  about  to  go 
shopping.  For  once  things  were  breaking  in  their 
favor. 

[39] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Patrick  regarded  them  suspiciously.  To  his  mind 
three  idle  boys  were  a  precursor  of  trouble.  He  led 
the  bays  into  the  drive,  climbed  onto  the  box  and 
shook  his  head  dubiously  as  he  drove  off. 

The  oats  were  stored  in  an  empty  stall.  With 
difficulty  they  rolled  a  bag  onto  a  short  ladder  which 
was  leaning  against  the  rear  wall  of  the  barn.  Then, 
giving  one  end  to  Tub,  Beany  and  Gangleshanks 
took  the  other  and  they  staggered  away  with  their 
booty,  through  the  hedge  and  cross  lots  to  the 
laughing  horse. 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  LAW 

"They  found  Mrs.  Pardee's  necklace,"  said  Mr. 
Fleming  suddenly,  suspending  his  carving  knife  over 
the  steak.  Beany  swallowed  his  water  the  wrong 
way  and  choked. 

"If  you  only  wouldn't  drink  so  fast,"  said  his 
mother,  patting  him  on  the  back.  "One  would 
think  you  only  had  a  moment  to  eat  your  dinner. 
Where  did  they  find  it,  Harry?" 

"The  detectives  found  it  in  a  pawnshop.  Funny 
thing.  I  was  talking  to  Pardee  about  it  this  after 
noon.  It  seems  they  traced  it  to  an  old  ragman 
whom  they've  arrested.  He  claims  two  boys  gave 
it  to  him  in  trade  for  his  horse.  Of  course  the 
police  don't  believe  the  story.  His  description  of 
the  boys  was  very  vague."  Beany  breathed  easier. 
"Said  it  was  quite  dark  and  all  he  noticed  about 
them  was  their  caps." 

"How  absurd!"  said  Mrs.  Fleming.     "Every  boy 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

wears  a  cap.  That  might  have  been  Beany  here  for 
all  you  could  tell."  She  smiled  over  the  table  ferns 
at  her  son.  Beany  made  a  brave  attempt  at  merri 
ment  but  only  succeeded  in  making  a  face. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Fleming,  "the  police  are 
on  the  lookout,  but  I  don't  think  there's  much  doubt 
that  the  ragman  took  it." 

"Will  they  send  him  to  jail?"  Beany  tried  to 
make  his  voice  sound  natural. 

"I  should  hope  they  would,"  replied  his  father 
grimly. 

The  meal  continued.  "What's  the  matter,  dear?" 
asked  Mrs.  Fleming,  noticing  Beany's  half-emptied 
plate. 

"I  don't  think  I  care  for  steak  as  much  as  I  used 
to,"  he  explained  weakly. 

"Nonsense  !"  replied  Mr.  Fleming.  "You've  been 
filling  yourself  up  with  trash  down  at  that  Mrs. 
McGruder's.  Why  do  you  let  him  ruin  his  diges 
tion  at  these  places,  dear?" 

"No  I  haven't,  honest,  father." 

"Then  eat  your  dinner  and  don't  let's  have  any 
more  nonsense  about  not  liking  things.  When  I 
was  your  age " 

Beany  knew  the  rest  of  the  formula  by  heart. 
[42] 


AND  THE  TUB 

His  father  had  lived  in  a  terrible  age  when  the 
rights  of  little  boys  were  on  a  par  with  those  of  an 
African  slave.  He  made  an  effort  and  swallowed 
what  remained  on  his  plate.  The  conversation 
drifted  to  other  topics. 

"Are  you  going  down  to  the  club  tonight?"  asked 
Mrs.  Fleming  after  dinner.  Mr.  Fleming  always 
visited  his  club  on  Saturday  night,  although  none 
had  ever  been  able  to  find  out  what  he  did  there 
and  he  usually  came  home  with  a  grouch,  vowing 
he  would  never  go  again. 

"Not  tonight,"  he  said.    "It's  pouring." 

Beany  sauntered  nonchalantly  out  into  the  hall. 
"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Mrs.  Fleming. 

"Oh,  I  guess  I'll  run  over  to  Gangleshanks  a 
minute,"  he  said  in  his  most  casual  tone. 

"Not  tonight  you  won't,"  said  Mr.  Fleming. 
"In  this  rain.  Why  it's  absurd.  Why  don't  you 
ever  stay  home  once  in  a  while  ?  I'd  planned  to  have 
my  family  round  me  tonight  for  once.  Never  saw 
such  a  restless  boy." 

"Yes,  Beany.  We'd  like  to  see  something  of  you 
once  in  a  while.  You've  been  with  Gangleshanks  all 
day.  Why  don't  you  stay  home  this  evening  and 
talk?" 

[43] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Oh,  mother,  what  is  there  to  talk  about?" 

"Lots  of  things,"  said  Mr.  Fleming  decidedly. 
"You're  not  going  over  to  the  Braceworths'  tonight, 
so  there's  an  end  of  it." 

Beany  flung  his  cap  on  the  hall  bench  and  stalked 
back  into  the  living  room  in  his  most  dignified  man 
ner.  He  sat  down  stiffly  on  the  edge  of  an  arm 
chair  opposite  his  father  and  waited.  The  latter 
was  deep  in  the  evening  paper. 

Five  minutes  passed  marked  only  by  the  loud 
ticking  of  the  clock.  "I  don't  see  any  sense  in  sittin' 
around  just  to  watch  you  read  y'r  paper,"  remarked 
Beany.  "I  thought  you  wanted  to  talk.  Let's  go 
ahead  and  talk  and  get  it  over  with."  Beany's  idea 
of  a  family  conversation  was  an  explanation  as  to 
why  he  had  or  had  not  done  something. 

Mr.  Fleming  looked  up  impatiently  from  his 
paper.  "Talk!  Talk!"  he  repeated  as  if  he  had 
never  heard  the  word  before.  "What's  the  matter 
with  the  boy,  Grace?  I  never  saw  him  act  so 
strangely." 

"Beany's  all  right,"  she  said.  "You  invite  him 
to  stay  home  for  a  quiet  chat  and  then  you  bury 
yourself  behind  your  paper." 

"Oh,  very  well !"  Mr.  Fleming  tossed  the  offend- 
[44] 


AND  THE  TUB 

ing  paper  to  the  ground  and  gazed  moodily  at  the 
fire  for  several  moments.  "You  didn't  have  a  very 
good  report  this  week,  Beany,"  he  said  finally,  pass 
ing  his  hand  wearily  before  his  eyes  as  he  was 
wont  to  do  when  introducing  such  a  subject.  There 
was  a  familiar  whistle  from  the  verandah. 

"That's  Gangleshanks,  mother,"  cried  Beany, 
starting  up. 

"Hasn't  that  boy  any  home?"  asked  Mr.  Fleming, 
picking  up  the  paper  with  a  relieved  expression. 

"It's  all  right  to  go  out  an'  talk  to  him  a  minute?" 
Beany  ignored  this  question  and  appealed  to  his 
mother. 

"I  suppose  so.    Ask  him  to  come  in." 

"Oh,  Gangleshanks  wouldn't  want  to  come  in.  I 
think  he  just  ran  over  to  see  me  on  some  business. 
I'll  talk  to  him  on  the  verandah." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Mrs.  Fleming.  "Only  put 
on  your  hat  and  shove  up  the  latch  on  the  front 
door  so  that  you  can  get  in  again." 

Beany  was  out  of  the  house  before  these  direc 
tions  were  finished.  Gangleshanks  met  him  with 
a  worried  look.  "They  found  it,"  he  said. 

"I  know,"  Beany  nodded.  "Dad  told  me  at  din 
ner." 

[45] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"What  we  goin'  t'  do  now?"  asked  Gangleshanks. 
His  trust  was  beautiful.  For  once,  however,  Beany 
wished  that  he  was  more  independent. 

"It's  an  awful  mess,"  he  replied  noncommittally. 

"The  p'lice  are  after  us."  Gangleshanks  was  full 
of  cheery  bits.  "We  got  to  get  that  ol'  horse  back 
to  the  ragman  without  no  one  knowin'  anything 
about  it." 

"That's  sensible,  that  is.  How  you  goin'  to  get 
him  out  of  the  barn?  How  you  goin'  to  get  him 
back  to  the  ragman  when  the  ragman's  in  jail?  How 
you  goin'  to  do  anything  I'd  like  to  know?" 

Gangleshanks  looked  as  if  the  first  thing  he  might 
do  was  to  cry.  Then  he  suddenly  gripped  Beany's 
arm  and  crouched  behind  the  post.  "Look," 
he  whispered.  A  policeman  was  moving  slowly 
towards  them  up  the  front  walk.  They  held  their 
breaths.  Then  to  their  inexpressible  relief  he 
branched  off  onto  the  small  walk  that  led  around 
the  side  of  the  house  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen. 

"S'pose  he  saw  us?" 

"Don'  know.  S'pose  he's  goin'  round  in  back  so's 
we  can't  get  out  that  way."  By  hanging  over  the 
verandah  rail  it  was  possible  to  see  the  steps  of  the 
back  porch.  They  watched  the  policeman  mount 

[46] 


AND  THE  TUB 

half  way  up,  then  shake  himself  like  a  wet  dog. 
There  was  a  glare  of  light  as  the  kitchen  door 
opened  to  admit  him.  It  threw  long  forbidding 
shadows  on  the  wall  of  the  house  next  door.  The 
light  was  shut  off  and  nothing  was  heard  but  the 
pelting  of  the  rain  on  the  tin  roof  over  their  head. 

"Let's  peek  in  the  kitchen  window  an'  see  what 
he's  doin',''  suggested  Beany.  Regardless  of  the 
rain  which  was  dashing  in  spiteful  gusts  against  the 
house  they  climbed  over  the  side  rail  of  the  ve 
randah.  The  situation  was  too  grave  to  permit  the 
use  of  steps.  The  kitchen  shades  were  pulled  down, 
but  Beany  discovered  one  which  cleared  the  window 
frame  by  a  few  inches. 

By  standing  on  Gangleshanks'  shoulders  he  was 
able  to  reach  the  window  ledge  and  gain  a  restricted 
view  of  the  interior.  The  sight  which  he  saw  chilled 
his  blood.  The  policeman  had  divested  himself  of 
his  dripping  raincoat  and  had  drawn  up  a  chair 
near  the  stove.  Hannah  was  busy  pouring  hot 
water  from  the  teakettle  into  a  large  tea  pot.  Over 
the  back  of  the  chair  hung  his  club  ready  for  in 
stant  use. 

"D'y'  see  him?"  whispered  Gangleshanks 
[47] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

hoarsely.  The  strain  of  holding  Beany  on  his 
shoulders  was  beginning  to  tell. 

"Shut  up." 

There  was  a  short  silence  during  which  Gangle- 
shanks'  shoulders  wobbled  perceptibly.  "Coin'  to 
stand  there  all  evening?"  he  asked  in  indignant  sotto. 

"Keep  still,  can't  you?"  In  order  to  make  this 
more  emphatic  Beany  leaned  down  towards  his  sup 
porter's  ear.  The  shifting  of  weight  was  too  much 
for  Gangleshanks.  His  shoulders  gave  a  last  con 
vulsive  wobble  and  collapsed.  The  two  outlaws  dis 
appeared  into  the  mud. 

They  held  their  breaths  for  a  moment.  It  seemed 
to  them  that  the  crash  might  have  been  heard  for 
blocks.  There  was  no  other  sound  from  the  house, 
however,  but  an  hysterical  laugh  from  Hannah. 
"You  went  an'  did  it  now,"  whispered  Beany,  wiping 
the  mud  from  his  hands. 

"How  did  I  go  an'  do  it?  You  expect  me  to  hold 
you  up  in  the  air  all  night  like  an  acrobat?"  Then 
his  curiosity  got  the  better  of  his  indignation. 
"What  was  he  doin' ?" 

"Let's  get  out  of  here  first."  Beany  led  the  way 
back  to  the  verandah.  Gangleshanks  started  to 
climb  up  to  its  friendly  shelter.  "No,  don't  go  up. 

[48] 


AND  THE  TUB 

He  could  catch  us  too  easy  if  he  popped  out  the 
front  door."  Beany's  literary  tendencies  kept  him 
posted  on  the  ways  of  professional  sleuths.  "He's 
waitin'  for  us  in  the  kitchen.  I  guess  he  found  out 
we  was  out." 

"What're  y'  goin'  t'  do?" 

"Stay  here  'til  he  gets  tired  waitin',"  replied 
Beany  calmly. 

"I'm  gettin'  all  wet." 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  exclaimed  Beany  impatiently. 
"Would  you  rather  be  wet  or  in  jail?" 

"I'd  rather  be  in  jail  as  long's  it  was  dry." 

"Here  he  comes."  Beany  pulled  Gangleshanks 
down  beside  him  into  the  shadow  of  the  porch.  A 
light  shone  from  the  front  door.  Someone  came 
out. 

"Beany,"  called  Mrs.  Fleming.     "Beany." 

Here  was  a  predicament.  Not  knowing  what 
to  do  they  did  nothing.  The  light  patch  on  the 
wet  grass  was  darkened  by  another  figure.  "James." 
Mr.  Fleming's  voice  was  pitched  in  no  uncertain 
tone. 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  As  well  confess  now, 
thought  Beany,  and  go  to  jail  as  to  prolong  the 
agony.  "Yes,  sir,"  he  replied  meekly,  and  appeared 

[491 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

around  the  corner  of  the  verandah  followed  by 
Gangleshanks.  To  his  surprise  his  father  and 
mother  were  alone  on  the  porch  entirely  unsup 
ported  by  the  police. 

To  anyone  not  acquainted  with  the  facts  the  boys 
presented  an  extraordinary  sight.  They  were  drip 
ping  wet  and  their  clothes,  faces  and  hands  were 
plastered  with  mud.  "James  Fleming!  Where 
have  you  been?" 

Beany  made  an  unsuccessful  attempt  at  non 
chalance.  "Just  talkin'  to  Gangleshanks,"  he  said. 

"Come  into  the  house  this  minute,"  commanded 
Mr.  Fleming.  "Gangleshanks,  go  right  home.  I'll 
let  your  father  attend  to  you." 

"And  now,  young  man,"  he  said  when  the  front 
door  had  banged  ominously  behind  them,  "go  up  to 
your  room  and  go  to  bed.  I'll  be  up  and  talk  to 
you  later."  Never  had  an  order  sounded  so 
musical  to  Beany's  ears.  It  meant  that  in  some  un 
accountable  way  his  father  was  in  ignorance  of  the 
law  sitting  cosily  in  the  kitchen  waiting  for  a  favor 
able  opportunity  to  enmesh  him. 

"I  don't  understand  that  boy  lately,"  said  Mr. 
Fleming  when  the  talk  was  over  and  he  sat  once 
more  with  his  wife.  "He  does  the  most  unaccount- 

[50] 


AND  THE  TUB 

able  things  and  offers  the  silliest  excuses.  Told  me 
he  went  off  the  verandah  to  talk  business  with 
Gangleshanks  so  they  wouldn't  disturb  us." 

"Perhaps  it's  just  as  well  not  to  try  too  hard," 
replied  his  philosophical  wife.  "Beany's  not  a  bad 
boy.  I'm  sure  of  that.  You  can  also  be  sure  that 
he's  got  good  reasons  in  his  own  mind  for  every 
move  he  makes." 

And  Beany,  overhearing  this  speech  from  his  po 
sition  half  way  down  the  front  stairs,  stole  back 
to  bed  with  the  feeling  that  his  mother  was  the 
only  sensible  person  in  the  world  except  Gangle 
shanks. 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 


CHAPTER  VII 

OATS,   LIKE   MURDER,   WILL   OUT 

The  next  day  was  Sunday.  Beany  dreamt  all 
night  that  the  grey  horse  was  dragging  him  down 
Walnut  Street  on  the  end  of  a  pearl  necklace. 
When  he  woke  up  the  rain  had  ceased  and  a  fresh 
breeze  was  fanning  the  curtains  of  ,his  bedroom. 
He  ran  to  shut  the  window  and  saw  a  policeman 
strolling  along  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  the  house. 
A  fresh  realization  of  his  worldly  cares  descended 
upon  him  like  a  blanket.  The  police  were  watching 
the  house. 

"I  don't  think  I'll  go  to  church  this  morning," 
he  announced  at  breakfast.  He  pictured  the  grey 
horse  patiently  dying  of  starvation  in  the  cellar 
of  the  barn. 

Mr.  Fleming  looked  up  from  his  paper  crossly. 
The  events  of  the  previous  evening  had  not  left  him 
in  a  Sunday  mood.  "Why  not,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"I  have  a  lot  of  stuff  to  do  around  here,"  ex 
plained  Beany. 

[52] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Nonsense !  You'll  go  to  church  with  your 
mother  and  me  just  as  usual." 

"Yes,  sir."  Beany  was  mindful  of  certain  injunc 
tions  which  he  had  received  ten  hours  previously. 
The  meal  passed  off  quietly  if  not  pleasantly. 

The  journey  to  church  was  an  ordeal  to  Beany 
of  which  no  one  dreamed.  His  one  comfort  lay  in 
his  hat  which  was  of  the  Sunday  felt  variety  and 
afforded  him  a  partial  disguise.  It  is  doubtful, 
however,  what  might  have  happened  had  a  police 
man  loomed  up  round  the  corner.  He  observed 
with  satisfaction  that  Gangleshanks  was  also  in 
church  wearing  a  subdued  and  holy  look. 

Sunday  dinner  was  usually  an  event.  Today,  how 
ever,  it  was  an  ordeal.  Immediately  it  was  finished 
Beany  slipped  out  by  the  kitchen  route  to  prevent 
embarrassing  enquiries.  Gangleshanks  was  waiting 
impatiently  outside.  Silently  they  proceeded  to  the 
Tub's  home,  prepared  to  inflict  the  most  terrible 
punishments  if  he  should  hesitate  to  furnish  them 
with  more  outs.  The  Tub  met  them  at  the  door 
in  a  state  of  great  excitement.  He  had  grown  ap 
preciably  thinner  in  the  last  forty-eight  hours. 

"OP  Pat's  mu-mu-missed  the  bag  o'  oats,"  he 
[53] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

whispered.  "Du-du-don't  say  nothin'.  He  just  told 
fu-fu-fu-fu " 

Mrs.  Hemingway  came  out  into  the  hall  to  see 
who  was  there.  "Come  right  in,  boys,"  she  said. 
Mrs.  Hemingway  was  the  kind  of  a  woman  who  was 
always  making  a  fellow  sit  on  the  edge  of  a  chair 
in  the  library  and  tell  her  about  his  family.  She 
also  had  an  irritating  habit  of  noting  an  increase 
in  Beany's  growth  each  time  she  saw  him.  Never 
had  her  hospitality  been  more  unwelcome. 

"Here's  Jimmy  Fleming  and  Harry  Braceworth," 
she  announced,  pushing  the  unwilling  guests  before 
her  into  the  living  room. 

"War'y',"  grunted  Mr.  Hemingway  without 
coming  out  of  the  Sunday  paper. 

Mrs.  Hemingway  was  not  to  be  evaded  so  easily. 
She  must  know  about  Gangleshanks'  baby  sister  and 
if  Mrs.  Fleming  had  yet  succeeded  in  getting  a  maid. 
"I  do  believe,  Beany,  that  you've  grown,"  she  said 
finally.  "Stand  up  with  your  back  to  Alexander.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  were  taller  than  he 
is."  This  interesting  experiment  was  never  carried 
out,  for  at  that  moment  there  was  a  disturbance  in 
the  back  hall,  a  door  was  slammed  and  old  Patrick, 
the  coachman,  burst  into  the  room.  His  face  was 

[54] 


AND  THE  TUB 

distorted  with  excitement  and  he  was  breathing  hard 
as  if  he  had  been  running. 

"The  saints  preserve  an'  keep  us  from  what  I 
just  been  seein' !"  he  exclaimed.  Mr.  Hemingway 
put  down  his  paper  hurriedly  and  removed  his  spec 
tacles. 

"What's  the  matter  now,  Patrick?"  he  asked  in  a 
martyred  voice. 

"It's  th'  divvil  hisself  is  in  this  thing  an'  well  did 
I  know  somethin'  like  this  'ud  come  of  it  when  the 
bay  mare  backed  into  that  lookin'-glass  in  the  barn." 

"But  what's  happened?"  asked  Mr.  Hemingway 
impatiently. 

"Well,  sor,  when  I  left  ye  I  sat  down  to  thry  an' 
figger  who  it  might  be  as  had  taken  them  oats.  All 
at  onct  I  sees  a  little  thrail  uv  th'  things  leadin'  from 
the  barn  door  to  th'  hedge.  'Ha,  ha,'  says  I,  an' 
follows  it,  through  th'  hedge,  across  th'  lots  an'  up 
to  your  own  barn  door." 

"My  own  barn,"  repeated  Mr.  Hemingway, 
puzzled. 

"Yes,  sor.  The  barn  on  that  vacant  place  o'  yours 
down  the  street.  I  turns  in  with  th'  thrail,  opens 
th'  door  an'  steps  in.  As  I  hope  t'  be  saved  the 
sight  what  met  me  oies  would  'a'  stopped  the  heart 

[55] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

uv  a  weaker  man."  At  the  recollection  of  it  Patrick 
wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face  with  his  sleeve. 
Having  thus  prepared  it,  he  crossed  himself  rev 
erently. 

"Well,  well.     What  did  you  see?" 

"Well,  sor,  ye'll  nivver  believe  it  but  th'  floor  uv 
th'  barn  had  opened  clean  up  so's  y'  could  see  right 
down  into  th'  botthomless  pit.  An'  there  at  th' 
botthom  of  it  was  th'  ol'  boy  hisself,  his  head 
throwed  back  an'  his  teeth  bared  right  in  me  foice." 

"Nonsense!    What's  this  all  about?" 

"May  I  die  unblessed  if  I  be  not  tellin'  th'  truth, 
sor!"  exclaimed  Patrick  fervently. 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to  go  over  with  you.  You've 
probably  seen  something  that's  been  stored  there 
for  the  last  ten  years  and  you've  never  noticed  be 
fore." 

"An'  it's  diwil  a  step  will  I  go  near  that  barn 
again,"  said  Pat  firmly.  "It's  notice  I'm  givin'  y' 
now,  sor." 

"I  never  heard  such  rubbish."  Mr.  Hemingway 
went  out  into  the  hall  for  his  hat.  "I'm  going  over 
to  see  what  this  is  all  about,"  he  said  to  his  wife. 

"Wait  a  moment.  I'll  put  on  my  hat  and  walk 
over  with  you."  If  it  was  really  the  devil  her 

[56] 


AND  THE  TUB 

woman's  curiosity  prompted  her  to  see  what  he 
might  look  like.  Patrick  shook  his  head  and  faded 
away  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen.  The  Heming 
ways  departed.  The  boys  were  left  alone. 

"Now  you  done  it,"  said  Beany.  "What  did  you 
want  to  go  dropping  oats  all  over  everything  for?" 

"What  did  /  drop  oats  for?"  Gangleshanks  was 
indignant.  "Why,  didn't  you  drop  'em  just  as  much 
as  me?" 

"Well,  I'm  glad  /  didn't  have  nu-nu-nothin'  to  do 
with  th'  ol'  haw-haw-haw-horse,"  said  the  Tub 
complacently.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  looked  at 
him  in  amazement. 

"You  didn't,"  said  Beany.  "I'd  like  to  know  why 
you  didn't  have  just  as  much  to  do  with  it  as  us. 
More.  It  was  you  that  thought  of  the  barn  in  the 
first  place." 

"The  whole  thing  is  your  fault,"  agreed  Gangle 
shanks.  "If  you  hadn't  wanted  to  have  a  club  in 
your  rotten  ol'  barn  we'd  never  have  thought  of  the 
horse." 

"Du-du-don't  you  think  I'm  goin'  t'  take  any  o' 
th'  blame,"  said  the  Tub,  instinctively  backing  away. 
This  movement  proved  to  be  his  undoing.  It  sug 
gested  the  same  thing  to  both  Gangleshanks  and 

[57] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Beany.  With  one  mind  they  advanced  upon  him. 
The  servants  were  all  out.  The  house  was  de 
serted.  With  the  skill  of  long  practice  they  seized 
their  victim  and  laid  him  on  the  rug. 

"Yu-yu-you   lemme  up,  now,"   warned  the   Tub. 

"You'll    bu-bu-be    sorry    if    you    du-du-du-du " 

Something  in  the  set  faces  of  his  tormentors  roused 
fcis  fears  that  this  was  about  to  be  a  Cure  even 
more  severe  than  usual.  "Yu-yu-you  leggo,  Beany 
Fleming.  Gu-gu-get  offa  me,  Gangleshanks.  I'll 
tu-tu-tell  father.  I'll " 

Just  what  else  he  proposed  to  do  will  never  be 
known  for  at  that  moment  Beany  flipped  a  corner 
of  the  rug  over  his  face.  Never  had  the  Cure  been 
applied  more  scientifically.  The  gurgling  groans  of 
the  victim  would  have  warmed  the  heart  of  an  in- 
quisitioner. 

Beany  ceased  his  rib-gouging  for  a  moment. 
uDo  you  swear,"  he  asked  solemnly,  "never  to  tell 
who  was  the  other  members  of  the  club?" 

"Do,"  came  the  stubborn  response. 

The  torture  was  resumed.  "  'Es,  'es.  I  swear. 
Oh !  Ugh !  I  sw-wu-wear." 

"Do  you  swear,"  continued  Beany  triumphant, 
"to  take  all  the  blame  for  the  horse?" 

[58] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"  'Es,  'es,"  came  the  muffled  affirmative.  "Lu- 
lu-lem  up.  Do  anydig." 

"Remember,"  warned  Beany,  removing  the  cor 
ner  of  the  rug  but  still  maintaining  his  position  of 
advantage  on  the  Tub's  stomach,  "if  you  ever  tell 
we'll  do  this  for  an  hour  straight." 

"Or  more,"  added  Gangleshanks.  "If  we  have 
time." 

"Queer  thing  about  that  necklace  business,"  said 
Mr.  Fleming  as  they  sat  at  supper  that  evening.  "I 
heard  this  afternoon  that  they  found  the  ragman's 
horse  in  Hemingway's  barn.  I  think  his  son  knows 
all  about  it.  Hemingway's  trying  to  hush  the  whole 
thing  up.  The  ragman  has  been  released.  Fine 
piece  of  nonsense  the  whole  thing." 

"I  never  did  like  that  Hemingway  boy,"  said 
Mrs.  Fleming.  "He's  too  fat.  You  know  him, 
don't  you,  Beany?" 

"Not  very  well,"  said  Beany  discreetly. 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  have  anything  to  do  with  him 
at  all.  I  don't  think  he's  a  very  good  companion 
for  either  you  or  Gangleshanks.  He  seems  to  be 
rather  a  wild  sort  of  a  boy." 

"Yes,  sir." 

[59] 


BEANY,  GANGLESUANKS, 

"I  never  thought  that  necklace  was  stolen,  any 
way,"  said  Mrs.  Fleming.  "That  Mrs.  Pardee's  a 
flighty  sort  of  a  person.  She'd  be  very  apt  to  jump 
at  conclusions." 

"I  never  thought  it  was  either,"  agreed  her  hus 
band.  And  thus  was  the  subject  of  the  necklace 
shelved  forever. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Fleming  later  in  the 
evening.  "I  met  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hopkins  today, 
Beany.  The  one  that  talked  at  your  school  and 
that  you  liked  so  much.  I  asked  him  here  to  sup 
per  next  Sunday  night.  He  seems  like  a  very  nice 
man." 

"Who?  That  ol'  pie  crust?"  said  Beany  disre 
spectfully.  "Whoever  said  I  liked  him.  Golly  day! 
Excuse  me !  I  guess  I'll  go  over  to  Gangleshanks 
that  night." 

The  following  morning  the  Tub  found  a  paper 
pasted  under  the  cover  of  his  desk.  It  depicted 
in  the  most  gruesome  details  a  human  skull  sur 
mounting  a  pair  of  crossed  tibiae. 


[60] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  INVINCUBEL  ATHELETIC  CLUB 

A  red-faced  man  in  a  grey  flannel  shirt  was  work 
ing  on  the  connections  of  a  fire  alarm  box.  Beany, 
Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  paused  to  watch  him. 
After  a  brief  inspection  the  Tub  sought  out  a  con 
venient  stepping-stone  and  sat  down  wearily.  Be 
ing  a  vessel  of  heavier  tonnage  than  either  Beany  or 
Gangleshanks  their  stop-and-go  method  of  travel 
wearied  him.  The  Tub  considered  walking  one  of 
the  necessary  evils  to  be  classed  with  getting  up  in 
the  morning  and  brushing  the  teeth.  He  preferred 
to  accomplish  such  things  with  one  supreme,  continu 
ous  effort. 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks,  however,  believed  in 
self-education.  Their  weekly  school  reports  showed 
that  it  was  the  only  kind  which  they  did  sanction. 
On  this  afternoon  they  had  not  wasted  a  moment 
since  school  let  out.  At  the  corner  of  Main  and 
Berkeley  Streets  they  had  studied  art  from  a  gentle- 

[61] 


man  in  a  brimless  straw  hat  who  was  obliterating 
a  Liberty  Bond  appeal  with  a  three-foot  boiled  ham. 
At  the  end  of  the  next  block  they  had  taken  a  lesson 
in  engineering  from  a  city  official  who  was  attempt 
ing  to  bail  out  a  manhole  with  an  old  broom.  Now 
they  were  quite  prepared  to  receive  some  instruc 
tion  in  applied  electricity. 

They  had  passed  this  fire  box  so  often  that  its 
familiarity  had  robbed  it  of  any  special  interest. 
Under  the  manipulation  of  the  red-faced  man,  how 
ever,  it  assumed  new  possibilities.  Beany  noticed 
for  the  first  time  the  raised  silver  letters  on  its 
crimson  front.  He  read  them  aloud,  as  he  read 
everything  from  street  car  ads  to  moving  picture 
headings,  apparently  under  the  impression  that  none 
else  was  similarly  gifted. 

"In  case  o'  fire  break  the  glass  an'  pull  down 
the  hook."  He  digested  this  information  for  several 
seconds.  "Fire  where?"  he  asked. 

The  man  paused  in  his  work  and  looked  at  them 
blankly.  Beany  noticed  that  his  face  exactly  matched 
the  box  and  wondered  if  this  was  one  of  the  rules 
of  the  fire  department.  He  pointed  to  the  letters. 

"Fire  where?"  he  repeated. 

The  man  peered  around  the  side  of  the  box  at  the 
[62] 


AND  THE  TUB 

inscription  as  if  he  had  never  seen  it  before.  "In 
your  gran'mother's  room,"  he  said  finally  and  re 
sumed  his  work. 

Beany  could  think  of  no  appropriate  reply  to  this 
remark.  He  had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that 
there  was  a  joke  concealed  in  it  somewhere.  He 
made  a  face  which  might  pass  for  a  laugh  if  there 
had  been  a  joke  and  as  a  mere  nervous  twitch  if 
there  had  not. 

The  red-faced  man  looked  up  again  after  a  few 
moments  and  seemed  surprised  to  find  them  still 
there.  "She  ain't  got  a  fire  in  it,  has  she?"  he  asked. 

Beany  shook  his  head  doubtfully  without  ventur 
ing  further  comment.  The  Tub  remained  comatose. 
When  they  moved  on  once  more  he  fell  in  behind 
them  without  a  word.  During  the  last  month  the 
Tub  had  changed.  He  accepted  life  with  the  un 
natural  calmness  of  a  man  who  knows  himself  to 
be  doomed.  It  had  already  dealt  him  some  heavy 
blows.  He  expected  more. 

Yet  he  persisted  in  clinging  to  the  coattails  of 
his  evil  genii.  For  many  days  after  the  discovery 
of  the  laughing  horse  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  had 
waited  for  their  world  to  come  crashing  about  their 
ears.  When  it  continued  to  remain  firmly  upright, 

[63] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

however,  they  began,  like  so  many  others  in  the 
same  position,  to  look  upon  themselves  as  Supermen. 
Snapping  their  fingers  in  the  face  of  fate  they 
visited  the  vacant  barn  once  more  in  search  of  in 
spiration.  In  a  room  on  the  second  floor  they  found 
it.  The  idea  of  a  club  once  more  took  possession 
of  their  minds  and  overshadowed  the  results  of 
their  previous  attempt.  Experience  counts  for 
nothing  at  the  age  of  twelve. 

The  Tub  had  been  drawn  into  this  adventure 
against  his  will.  He  was  like  a  swimmer  caught 
by  the  current  above  a  falls.  After  a  few  weeks 
of  struggle  he  had  resigned  himself  to  the  inevitable 
and  floated  passively  with  the  stream,  endeavoring 
to  get  some  small  enjoyment  out  of  life  before 
reaching  the  precipice. 

In  the  middle  of  the  block  they  turned,  cut  across 
the  uncut  lawn  of  a  vacant  house  and  disappeared 
down  the  drive.  They  entered  the  barn  through 
the  small  door.  Gangleshanks  shut  it  carefully  after 
them  and  hooked  it  on  the  inside. 

A  short  ladder  lay  against  the  wall  in  the  rear  of 
the  barn.  Beany  raised  it  to  the  edge  of  a  trap 
door  in  the  ceiling. 

"Got  everythin'?" 

[64] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Yep.    Go  ahead." 

They  climbed  the  ladder  and  disappeared  through 
the  hole  one  after  another.  Then  a  hand  appeared 
and  the  ladder  rose  jerkily  after  them.  They  were 
in  a  loft  formed  by  the  sloping  roof  of  the  barn. 
It  appeared  to  have  been  used  in  the  past  princi 
pally  for  the  storage  of  dust.  There  were  stalactites 
of  dust  hanging  from  the  rafters.  Small  puffs  of  it 
rose  from  the  floor  as  they  walked  across  it.  A 
beam  of  sunlight  struggling  through  the  single  win 
dow  disclosed  myriads  of  particles  chasing  one 
another  languidly  round  and  round.  The  very  air 
smelt  dusty,  due  no  doubt  to  the  fact  that  it  was 
not  contaminated  by  any  outside  influences.  The 
window  was  not  of  the  modern  kind  which  opens. 

At  one  end  of  the  loft  was  a  trapeze.  At  the 
other  a  pair  of  rusty  flying  rings  hung  dejectedly. 
An  old  couch,  which  had  long  since  parted  company 
with  its  buttons  and  whose  springs  had  exploded  in 
some  places  and  receded  in  others,  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  By  its  side  was  a  kitchen  table 
in  a  constant  state  of  indecision  as  to  which  three 
legs  it  would  stand  on.  A  number  of  antique  maga 
zines  were  scattered  about.  All  these  comforts  were 
explained  by  a  large  pasteboard  sign  nailed  above 

[65] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

the  window  on  which  was  printed   "!NVINCUBEL 
ATHELETIC  CLUB." 

Beany  threw  himself  carefully  on  the  sofa.  A 
considerable  amount  of  skill  and  experience  was 
necessary  to  execute  this  maneuver,  for  the  sofa  was 
as  tricky  as  a  bucking  horse.  Having  established  a 
balance  he  gazed  appreciatively  about  him. 

To  an  ordinary  observer  the  quarters  of  the 
INVINCUBEL  ATHELETIC  CLUB  would  have  con 
tained  little  to  allure.  In  fact  an  unimaginative 
person  like  Mrs.  Fleming  would  have  probably 
called  it  a  filthy  hole.  That  would  have  been  be 
cause  she  could  not  see  it  with  Beany's  eyes.  The 
latter  had  once  taken  a  trip  to  New  York  with  his 
father.  They  had  dined  at  the  University  Club. 
His  present  surroundings  represented  to  him  the 
luxury  and  comfort  which  he  had  observed  there. 

Gangleshanks  opened  a  drawer  in  the  table  and 
took  out  a  cigar  box.  This  he  opened  with  much 
ceremony  and  brought  forth  three  half-smoked 
cigarettes. 

"Why  don't  you  fellas  mark  'em?"  he  complained, 
unable  to  identify  his  own. 

"I  did,"  said  Beany.  "Mine's  marked  with  a 
pencil." 

[66] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Mu-mu-mine's  the  shortest,"  stammered  the 
Tub,  who  considered  the  consumption  of  tobacco 
more  of  a  grace  than  an  enjoyment.  He  was  willing 
to  waive  hygiene  in  order  to  reduce  quantity. 

Gangleshanks  studied  the  three  half-burnt 
cigarettes  once  more  and  then  distributed  them. 
Selecting  a  match  from  the  cigar  box  he  lit  his  own, 
blew  out  the  match  and  passed  the  box  to  Beany. 

"Say!"  exclaimed  the  latter  with  withering  con 
tempt.  "Don't  you  know  you're  supposed  to  light 
mine  first?" 

"Who  was  your  nigger  servant  last  year?"  en 
quired  Gangleshanks  with  dignity. 

"That  shows  all  you  know  about  smoking,"  cried 
Beany.  "You  always  light  everybody  else's  cigarette 
before  you  light  your  own." 

"My  father  doesn't,"  asserted  Gangleshanks 
stoutly. 

"Father  calls  a  fella  that  lights  his  own  first  a 
Cornell  man." 

"Maybe  that's  it,"  compromised  Gangleshanks, 
willing  to  drop  the  subject. 

The  Tub  lit  his  cigarette  and  having  failed  to  ac 
quire  the  sofa,  lay  down  on  a  long,  coffin-like  packing 
box  which  was  the  third  and  last  article  of  furni- 

[67] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

ture  on  the  inventories  of  the  INVINCUBEL  ATHE- 
LETIC  CLUB. 

Beany  reclined  with  as  much  ease  as  the  eccen 
tricities  of  the  couch  would  permit.  Filling  his 
mouth  with  smoke  he  began  to  let  it  trickle  slowly 
out.  Then,  feeling  a  cough  approaching,  he  blew 
it  forth  hastily  in  a  great  blast. 

"Did  you  ever  see  anybody  send  in  an  alarm?" 
ihe  asked  finally. 

Gangleshanks  shook  his  head. 

"Golly  day,  I  bet  they  can  go."  He  blew  a  second 
cloud  of  smoke  through  his  pursed  lips.  "I'm  goin' 
to  keep  my  eyes  out  for  fires  an'  see  if  I  can't  ring 
in  one  sometime." 

"Me,  too,"  said  Gangleshanks. 

The  Tub  said  nothing.  He  was  engaged  in  grind 
ing  his  cigarette  to  a  pulp  under  his  heel  so  that 
his  fellow  clubmen  might  not  discover  how  much  of 
it  was  left. 

"Do  you  s'pose  if  I  broke  the  glass  every  fire  en 
gine  in  the  city  would  come  runnin'  up?" 

"Sure  they  would,"  replied  Gangleshanks.  "Be 
fore  you  could  say  Jack  Robinson." 

Beany  thought  this  over,  his  lips  forming  Mr. 
Robinson's  name  several  times.  After  a  few  ex- 

[68] 


AND  THE  TUB 

periments  he  felt  that  Gangleshanks  had  slightly 
overstated  the  case.  The  cigarette  had  made  him 
feel  languid.  Gangleshanks  selected  one  of  the 
periodicals  from  the  table  and  began  to  read.  It 
was  entitled  "Pearl  Handled  Pete;  or  The  Ranch 
man's  Peril."  The  Tub  had  relapsed  into  a  doze. 

"How  hard  d'you  s'pose  'tis  to  break  the  glass?" 
asked  Beany,  after  a  long  silence. 

Gangleshanks  was  unaware  of  the  question. 
The  Ranchman  had  been  just  faced  with  both  barrels 
of  P.  H.  Pete's  famous  guns.  u  'You  cowardly  cur!' 
he  said,  folding  his  arms.  'Shoot.'  ' 

"How  hard  d'you  s'pose  it  would  be?"  insisted 
Beany. 

Gangleshanks  looked  up  impatiently. 

"What're  you  talkin'  about?"  he  asked. 

"The  glass!  The  glass!  Can't  you  understand 
English?  Golly  day!  You  can't  remember  a  thing 
two  seconds." 

"Can  so.  I  don't  keep  talking  about  the  same 
thing  all  day,  though.  Ask  the  Tub.  I  haven't  time 
to  tell  you  everything." 


[69] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    ORACLE 

Beany  forgot  all  about  the  matter  until  the  fol 
lowing  morning  when  he  was  proceeding  unenthusi 
astically  towards  school.  He  noted  the  fire  box 
in  its  accustomed  place.  It  reminded  him  of  a  red- 
faced  bully  defying  the  world  to  hit  him.  He 
thought  of  it  again  during  the  day  along  with  sundry 
other  matters  which  had  no  bearing  on  his  educa 
tion. 

On  his  return  from  school  he  made  several  passes 
at  the  box  with  his  fist,  then,  observing  a  policeman, 
he  continued  on  his  way  making  ugly  jabs  and  side 
swipes  at  the  air  in  order  to  give  the  impression 
that  this  was  merely  an  arm  exercise  which  he  in 
dulged  in  while  walking. 

The  human  senses  have  a  happy  way  of  adapting 
themselves  to  their  surroundings  by  disregarding 
certain  sights  and  sounds  which  would  otherwise 
become  unbearable  through  the  monotony  of  repe 
tition.  By  means  of  this  instinct  of  selection  we 

[70] 


AND  THE  TUB 

are  able  to  ignore  the  constant  flashing  of  telegraph 
poles  past  the  windows  of  a  train,  the  roaring  of 
a  falls,  or  the  frequent  passing  of  street  cars  in  the 
night.  Unfortunately,  however,  we  cannot  turn  our 
senses  on  and  off  like  a  water  tap.  Once  these  im 
pressions  have  been  voluntarily  registered  on  the 
field  of  consciousness  they  stubbornly  refuse  to  be 
submerged  again. 

Such  was  the  relationship  between  Beany  and  the 
fire  box,  although  he  was  not  aware  of  it  in  just 
those  terms.  He  had  turned  on  the  faucet  and  was 
unable  to  shut  it  off  again.  What  had  formerly 
been  an  unimportant  part  of  the  general  landscape 
now  became  a  living  pest  which  mocked  him  from 
every  corner  telegraph  pole,  daring  him,  tantalizing 
him,  taking  advantage  of  his  curiosity. 

The  box  near  the  Invincubel  headquarters  was 
the  most  belligerent.  Each  time  he  passed  it  seemed 
to  cry,  "You  don't  dare.  Yellow!"  Once  he  tried 
throwing  stones  at  it.  He  received  such  a  fright, 
however,  when  one  of  them  struck  just  over  the  little 
glass  door  that  he  never  repeated  the  experiment. 

At  first  Gangleshanks  took  but  little  interest  in 
the  matter.  Gradually,  however,  Beany  made  him 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

feel  the  tantalization  of  it.  It  was  like  painting 
"Danger"  on  a  door,  then  leaving  it  unlocked. 

Beany  would  stand  silently  before  the  box  for 
minutes  at  a  time.  This  was  of  itself  proof  that 
most  unusual  things  were  going  on  in  his  mind.  He 
pictured  to  himself  the  results  of  the  simple  opera 
tion  described  on  the  cover.  At  a  motion  of  his 
finger  the  big  red  motors  would  begin  to  roar.  Street 
cars  would  stop.  Automobiles  would  crowd  to  the 
curb.  Traffic  policemen  would  wave  their  arms. 
The  movement  of  a  city  would  pause  momentarily 
just  because  Beany  Fleming  said  so. 

Even  the  most  alluring  things,  however,  must  give 
way  to  the  march  of  events.  An  individual  who 
advertised  himself  as  the  "Human  Fly"  arrived  in 
town,  and  proceeded  to  climb  the  face  of  the  Ludlow 
Building  in  defiance  of  Newton  and  police  regula 
tions,  thereby  giving  an  immense  impetus  to  the 
ambition  of  every  boy  in  town.  The  fire  alarm  was 
momentarily  eclipsed. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  they  sat  once  more  in 
the  Invincubel  Atheletic  Club  discussing  the  virtues 
of  the  Human  Fly  and  the  possibilities  of  a  similar 
career  provided  one  began  early  enough — and  lived 
long  enough.  They  stimulated  their  minds  with 

[72] 


AND  THE  TUB 

three  more  cigarettes  borrowed  from  Mr.  Fleming's 
box. 

Tobacco  had  been  introduced  among  the  Invin- 
cubels  when  athletics  had  sunk  to  a  very  low  ebb 
and  the  life  of  the  institution  had  been  threatened. 
None  of  them  enjoyed  it  especially,  but  each  felt 
that  such  an  admission  would  be  a  sign  of  weakness. 
They  puffed  stoically,  therefore,  with  much  outward 
gusto  and  inward  discomfort. 

The  real  thrill  was  born  of  the  necessity  of  kiss 
ing  their  parents  while  the  traces  of  their  guilt  most 
easily  detected  by  such  devotional  acts  were  still 
upon  them.  Beany  found  that  by  holding  his  breath 
his  chances  were  reasonably  good.  Fate  had  almost 
overtaken  him  one  evening  when  Mrs.  Fleming, 
after  sniffing  at  his  clothing,  remarked  to  her  hus 
band,  "I  think  it's  dreadful  how  your  smoke  gets 
into  everything.  Even  Beany  smells  of  tobacco  just 
from  being  in  the  room  with  you."  There  was  a 
dreadful  moment  of  suspense  until  Mr.  Fleming  had 
replied  in  a  vaguely  uncomplimentary  manner  from 
behind  his  paper  that  if  it  wasn't  tobacco  it  would 
be  something  else. 

The  danger  had  been  lessened  by  the  discovery 
at  Mrs.  McGruder's  candy  shop  of  a  remarkably 

[73] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

strong  peppermint  ball.  Two  or  three  of  these 
would  have  counteracted  ammonia. 

Beany  pinched  out  his  cigarette  and  replaced  it 
in  the  cigar  box.  He  was  of  the  Oriental  school 
which  deems  a  few  puffs  ample. 

"Got  any  pep'mint  balls?"  asked  Gangleshanks, 
immediately  doing  likewise. 

Beany  searched  through  the  drawer.  "Not  a 
one,"  he  said. 

"Le's  go  down  to  Mrs.  McGruder's." 

The  Tub,  who  had  acquired  the  sofa,  yawned.  "I 
think  I'll  stay  here." 

"An'  let  us  go  down  an'  get  'em  for  you,  I 
s'pose." 

"I  du-du-du-don't  feel  good,"  explained  the  Tub. 

"Rats!" 

"Golly  day,  let  him  stay  there,"  said  Beany  con 
temptuously.  "We  don't  need  him." 

"I  should  say  not." 

Before  they  had  lowered  the  ladder  the  Tub's 
eyes  were  shut.  Before  they  had  reached  the  bot 
tom  he  was  happily  dozing. 

"Le's  take  the  ladder  away,"  suggested  Beany. 
His  alert  mind  seldom  missed  such  opportunities. 

Gangleshanks  agreed  with  enthusiasm.  The  lad- 
[74] 


AND  THE  TUB 

der  was  placed  on  its  side  in  the  corner  of  the  barn. 
They  departed,  much  pleased  with  their  cleverness. 

Their  errand  was  not  a  pressing  one  and  their 
progress  was,  in  consequence,  rather  Pickwickian. 
The  fire  box  once  more  claimed  their  attention. 
Beany  rapped  on  the  glass  with  his  knuckle. 

"I  bet  I  could  break  it  just  doin'  that,"  he  said. 

"You  better  not  monkey.  There's  nothin'  they'd 
like  more'n  sendin'  you  to  jail." 

"I  don't  see  how  they're  goin'  to  send  you  to  jail," 
argued  Beany.  "S'pose  you  think  there's  a  fire  when 
there  isn't.  They  can't  send  you  to  jail  for  bein' 
mistaken.  Golly  day,  if  you  think  there's  a  fire  you 
certainly  ought  to  turn  in  the  alarm." 

Gangleshanks  considered  this  logic  for  some  time, 
his  head  on  one  side.  "I  guess  that  wouldn't  do 
much  good,"  he  concluded  finally.  "The  firemen  'ud 
be  so  sore  'cause  you'd  got  'em  out  o'  bed  they'd  put 
you  in  jail  anyways."  He  had  heard  his  father 
often  speak  of  getting  into  his  clothes  like  a  fire 
man.  He  concluded  therefore  that  all  firemen  spent 
their  idle  moments  in  bed. 

They  continued  to  argue  this  point  half-heartedly 
until  they  reached  Mrs.  McGruder's.  That  good 
woman's  husband  was  sitting  in  the  window  reading 

[75] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

the  newspaper.  As  a  drawing  card  Mr.  McGruder 
ranked  on  a  par  with  the  candy  which  his  wife  sold. 
He  indulged  in  snuff  which  in  itself  would  have  been 
enough  to  hold  the  public  interest.  As  an  added 
inducement,  however,  he  maintained  one  foot  con 
stantly  swathed  in  bandages  and  supported  on  a 
kitchen  chair. 

This  foot  had  been  the  subject  of  much  specula 
tion  among  the  store's  customers.  Once  while  wait 
ing  with  his  mother  in  a  doctor's  office  Beany  had 
looked  into  a  medical  book.  Among  other  enjoyable 
horrors  he  discovered  a  colored  picture  of  a  foot 
from  which  the  skin  had  been  removed  in  order  to 
show  the  position  of  the  muscles.  He  had  immedi 
ately  concluded  that  Mr.  McGruder's  foot  must  look 
like  this.  By  throwing  in  a  few  revolting  details  of 
his  own  invention  he  had  focused  the  attention  of 
the  entire  neighborhood  on  that  gentleman's  ex 
tremity. 

Mystery  had  tended  to  give  Mr.  McGruder  a 
reputation  as  a  sage.  This  was  his  contribution  to 
the  welfare  of  the  shop.  He  was  conscious  of  his 
power  and  enjoyed  it.  A  question  having  been  pre 
sented  to  him,  he  would  lower  his  spectacles  to  the 
end  of  his  nose  and  look  at  the  speaker  intently 

[76] 


AND  THE  TUB 

for  several  seconds  as  if  unable  to  believe  that  such 
a  simple  problem  should  have  been  offered  for  his 
consideration.  He  would  then  pronounce  a  verdict 
with  unqualified  decision.  Mr.  McGruder's  mind 
was  clear  cut  on  any  subject  not  related  to  his  own 
affairs.  Those  he  left  entirely  to  his  wife. 

As  the  little  bell  over  the  door  tinkled  Mr.  Mc- 
Gruder  looked  up  and  nodded.  Beany  and  Gangle- 
shanks  bought  their  peppermint  balls,  and  having 
perched  themselves  on  the  window  ledge,  gazed  earn 
estly  at  him.  Without  changing  the  position  of 
his  newspaper  Mr.  McGruder  returned  their  stare 
over  his  spectacles  and  nodded  again. 

"Mr.  McGruder,"  said  Beany  as  soon  as  the  pep 
permint  ball  had  dissolved  sufficiently  to  allow  his 
jaws  their  normal  freedom  of  action,  "did  you  ever 
ring  a  fire  alarm?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  sage  decidedly,  indicating 
by  his  tone  that  it  was  a  daily  matter  during  his 
more  active  years. 

"Did  they  try  to  put  you  in  jail?" 

Mr.  McGruder  appeared  startled.  He  lowered 
his  glasses  on  his  nose,  and  looked  over  them.  "No," 
Jie  said.  "No.  They  didn't  put  me  in  jail." 

"Was  there  a  fire?" 

[77] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Certainly."  He  was  apparently  puzzled  by  the 
question.  "That  was  why  I  rang  the  alarm." 

This  remark  contained  so  much  common  sense 
that  Beany  hesitated  before  he  asked  his  next  ques 
tion. 

"What  would  they  do  to  you  if  you  rang  a  fire 
alarm  an'  there  was  no  fire?" 

Mr.  McGruder  studied  this  problem  with  as  much 
earnestness  as  if  the  guilty  party  had  just  been 
dragged  before  him  for  judgment. 

"Jail,"  he  said  finally.  "Fer  not  less  than  five 
years." 

"But  s'pose,"  insisted  Beany,  "that  you  thought 
there  was  a  fire  an'  you  found  out  afterwards  there 
was  none." 

"Jail,"  repeated  Mr.  McGruder  unbendingly. 
"Fer  not  less  than  five  years." 

"But  I  shouldn't  think  anybody  would  dare  turn 
in  the  alarm  if  it  was  like  that,"  said  Beany.  "If 
I  saw  a  fire  I  wouldn't  turn  in  the  alarm  for  fear  I 
only  thought  it  was  one  and  it  wasn't  really." 

Mr.  McGruder  removed  his  glasses  entirely  and 
wiped  them  on  the  end  of  his  necktie  in  order  that 
he  might  think  more  clearly.  "Accordin'  to  the 
law,"  he  said  finally,  replacing  his  glasses,  "there's 


AND  THE  TUB 

got  to  be  a  fire  o'  some  kind.  It  don't  make  much 
difference  what  kind  o'  a  fire  'tis  long's  there's  one 
around  somewhere.  If  there  ain't — jail,  fer  not  less 
than  five  years." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  judgment,  Mr. 
McGruder  picked  up  his  newspaper  which  had 
slipped  to  the  floor  and  began  to  read  once  more 
as  if  to  indicate  that  that  was  all  the  advice  to 
which  they  were  entitled  with  a  four-cent  purchase. 
They  looked  at  him  for  several  seconds  with  puzzled 
faces.  It  was  sometimes  difficult  to  follow  Mr. 
McGruder's  law. 


[79] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  DANGER  OF  DULL  AFTERNOONS 

They  retraced  their  steps  towards  the  Invincubel 
Atheletic  Club  languidly.  The  afternoon  threat 
ened  to  drag  unless  something  unforeseen  happened. 
Just  inside  the  barn  door  stood  a  number  of  garden 
tools  and  an  iron  wheelbarrow. 

"Le's  rake  out  the  yard,"  suggested  Beany. 

"Wha'  for?"  asked  Gangleshanks  surprised. 

"We'll  make  some  money.  When  we  get  it  all 
done  we'll  have  the  Tub  tell  his  father  about  it. 
He'll  give  him  some  money  for  it." 

"Whatgood'llthatdous?" 

"Well,  you  don't  s'pose  we'd  let  him  keep  it,  do 
you?" 

This  put  the  matter  in  an  interesting  light.  The 
wheelbarrow  and  the  rakes  were  set  to  work  collect 
ing  the  two-year  deposit  of  leaves  and  rubbish  which 
strewed  the  yard. 

This  industry  had  proceeded  for  almost  ten  min 
utes  when  the  drone  of  an  aeroplane  engine  filled 

[80] 


AND  THE  TUB 

the  air.  They  ceased  immediately  and  squinted  up 
into  the  sky.  The  aeroplane  was  a  tiny  speck  di 
rectly  above  their  heads. 

"How  far  do  you  s'pose  he  is?"  asked  Beany. 

"Five  or  six  miles,"  estimated  Gangleshanks. 

"Golly  day,  I'd  like  to  be  up  there." 

"Yes,  you  would!  You'd  be  so  scared  you'd  fall 
right  out." 

"Is  that  so?     I  s'pose  you  could  do  it  easy." 

"I  didn't  say  I  could." 

"Golly  day,  if  I  didn't  have  no  more  nerve  than 
you  got  I  wouldn't  talk  about  what  I  could  do." 

Gangleshanks  set  down  the  wheelbarrow  in  order 
to  concentrate  on  a  bright  and  crushing  rejoinder. 
"You  make  me  tired,"  was  the  best  he  could  pro 
duce.  He  felt  that  this  was  a  trifle  flat. 

"Well,  you  make  me  tired.  You're  always  talkin' 
about  how  brave  you  are  an'  you'd  jump  out  o'  your 
skin  if  anybody  said  'Boo.'  ' 

"Is  that  so?" 

"Yes,  that's  so." 

They  stood  glaring  at  each  other,  suddenly  hos 
tile,  with  no  knowledge  or  thought  of  the  cause. 

"Well,  I  bet  I  can  stump  you  any  day." 

"Le's  see  you  do  it." 

[81] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

This  promised  to  be  more  exciting  than  raking, 
which  had  already  begun  to  pall.  Gangleshanks 
looked  about  him  for  some  daredevil  feat  with  which 
he  might  humiliate  his  opponent. 

"Le's  see  you  walk  this,"  he  said,  climbing  up  on 
the  high  board  fence  which  separated  the  two  yards. 
He  stood  upright  unsteadily  and  staggered  along 
the  top  of  several  feet.  Then  after  a  moment  of 
semaphoring  he  jumped. 

Beany  watched  him  scornfully.  "You  couldn't  do 
it  yourself,"  he  said.  "How're  you  goin'  to  stump 
a  fellow  when  you  can't  do  it  yourself?" 

"How  didn't  I  do  it?"  cried  Gangleshanks  indig 
nantly,  brushing  some  fresh  earth  from  his  knees. 
"Gee  whizz,  you  wouldn't  be  satisfied  unless  a  fel 
low  walked  up  an'  down  'til  his  shoes  was  wore  out. 
Le's  see  you  get  as  far." 

Beany  climbed  the  fence  and  started  to  walk  along 
the  top  with  a  great  show  of  unconcern.  Gangle 
shanks  looked  worried.  "Hey,"  he  cried  sharply. 
At  the  sound  of  the  voice  Beany's  nonchalance  van 
ished.  His  arms  began  to  revolve  like  those  of  a 
Cape  Cod  wind  vane.  A  moment  later  he  was 
seated  in  a  strange  flower  bed.  Someone  came  out 
on  the  back  porch  of  the  house  next  door. 

[82] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Little  boy — you  get  right  out  o"  this  yard  or 
I'll  call  a  policeman." 

"Yes'm."  Beany  started  to  climb  back  hastily 
over  the  fence.  When  he  reached  the  top  he  began 
to  moan.  Once  on  friendly  soil  he  sank  down  upon 
it  heavily  and  seizing  his  ankle  with  both  hands 
assumed  an  expression  of  excruciating  pain. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Gangleshanks  sus 
piciously. 

"I  sprained  my  ankle." 

"Rats!"  replied  the  cynic. 

"Honest."  To  prove  it  Beany  let  go  of  his  ankle 
and  began  to  writhe  on  the  grass.  Gangleshanks 
looked  undecided.  A  nickel  slipped  from  Beany's 
trouser  pocket.  Gangleshanks  lost  no  time  picking 
it  up.  Beany  ceased  to  writhe. 

"Gi'me  that,"  he  demanded,  snatching  at  his 
property. 

Gangleshanks  backed  away,  then  turned  and  ran 
towards  the  barn.  Beany  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
started  after  him.  Although  it  must  have  cost  him 
great  pain,  he  didn't  even  limp. 

"There."  Gangleshanks  stopped  triumphantly 
and  handed  him  the  nickel.  "I  knew  that  was  the 

[83] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

kind  of  sprained  ankle  you  had.  Gee  whizz,  I  never 
saw  such  a  baby." 

Beany,  finding  himself  in  a  corner,  slipped  out  of 
it  by  the  simple  expedient  of  ignoring  the  subject  en 
tirely. 

"I  bet  you  one  thing,"  he  said.  "I  bet  I  can 
stump  you." 

"Le's  see  you." 

Beany  thought  for  a  moment,  then  placing  his 
head  on  the  ground  he  threw  his  feet  into  the  air 
and  remained  poised  for  an  instant  upside  down 
while  a  number  of  curious  objects  fell  from  his 
pockets.  Gangleshanks  did  the  same. 

Beany  climbed  a  telegraph  pole  which  stood  in 
the  rear  of  the  yard.  He  went  to  the  top  climbing- 
spike  and  touched  the  pole  above  him  as  high  up  as 
Jie  could  reach.  Gangleshanks  stretched  to  a  point 
about  an  inch  higher. 

Both  contestants  were  getting  angry.  Beany 
looked  about  for  some  dizzy  height  from  which  he 
might  hurl  himself  and  end  the  contest.  If  he  broke 
his  neck  he  felt  that  would  still  further  humiliate 
Gangleshanks. 

The  telephone  pole  passed  close  to  the  eaves  of 
the  barn.  Beany  climbed  it  once  more  and  wriggled 

[84] 


AND  THE  TUB 

his  body  onto  the  sloping  roof.  Working  his  way 
along  the  gutter  he  came  to  the  front.  Gangle- 
shanks  watched  him  uneasily  from  the  ground, 
twelve  feet  below. 

"What're  you  goin'  to  do?"  he  asked. 

"Jump,"  said  Beany  shortly.  And  as  he  said  it 
he  knew  that  he  was  a  liar.  From  the  ground  the 
eaves  of  the  barn  had  not  seemed  unreasonably 
high.  From  his  present  position  he  felt  like  a 
balloonist.  The  back  yards  stretched  away  on 
either  hand  in  orderly  sections.  Gangleshanks, 
standing  below  him,  looked  like  a  mere  speck.  He 
felt  that  it  would  be  suicide  to  jump.  He  thought  of 
his  family  and  the  great  obligations  which  he  owed 
to  them.  He  thought  of  Harry  Hodges,  who  had 
merely  fallen  off  the  verandah  when  he  was  a  baby 
and  was  forced  to  go  through  life  with  a  poker 
strapped  to  his  leg  in  consequence. 

Gangleshanks  in  the  meanwhile  stood  leering  up 
at  him. 

"Why  don't  you  jump?"  he  asked. 

"I  guess  I  don't  have  to  'til  I  want  to,"  roared 
Beany.  "I — I  like  it  up  here." 

"Yes,  you  do."  Gangleshanks  had  an  irritating 
manner  at  times. 

[85] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"It's  great,"  said  Beany.  "Come  on  up.  I  think 
I'll  stay  up  here  a  while." 

"You're  scared  to  jump,"  remarked  his  perse 
cutor. 

"Am  not."  As  he  said  it  Beany  made  himself  still 
flatter  against  the  roof.  A  piece  of  shingle  became 
dislodged,  slid  down  the  roof,  and  rested  in  the 
gutter.  Beany  started  at  the  noise.  Then  it  gave 
him  an  idea.  He  began  to  kick  the  gutter  with  his 
toe,  loud  enough  for  Gangleshanks  to  hear  it,  but 
without  allowing  him  to  see  what  made  the  noise. 
Then  he  stepped  to  one  side  hastily. 

"Golly  day,"  he  said.  "The  gutter's  breakin' 
down.  I  got  to  get  off  this  place  I  can  tell  you." 
He  worked  his  way  back  to  the  telegraph  pole  and 
climbed  down  with  as  much  haste  as  caution  would 
permit. 

"Golly  day!"  he  exclaimed,  reaching  the  bottom. 
"I  guess  that  was  a  pretty  narrow  escape." 

Gangleshanks'  face  expressed  utter  indifference 
to  the  peril.  "You  were  scared,"  he  said  simply. 

Rage,  such  as  provokes  men  to  kill,  blurred 
Beany's  eyesight.  "I'll  show  you  if  I'm  afraid  or 

not,"  he  fairly  shouted.  "I  bet  you  don't  dare " 

He  looked  about  for  something  that  would  overtax 

[86] 


AND  THE  TUB 

Gangleshanks'  courage,  but  which  he  was  quite  sure 
of  being  able  to  do  himself.  The  yard  offered  few 
possibilities.  At  that  moment  a  devil,  cloaked  as 
an  inspiration,  entered  his  soul. 

"I  bet  you  don't  dare  turn  in  the  fire  alarm." 


[87] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 


CHAPTER  XI 

EXCURSIONS  AND  ALARMS 

Gangleshanks  took  an  involuntary  step  backwards. 
It  was  as  if  Beany  had  said,  "I  bet  you  don't  dare 
stab  the  cook."  Then  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  this  was  merely  another  bit  of  bravado. 

"Nor  you,"  he  retorted. 

"Don't  I?"  Beany's  jaw  closed  tight.  His  face 
wore  a  peculiar,  screwed-up  expression.  It  was  the 
face  of  a  man  forced  to  the  wall.  "Don't  I?" 

He  started  out  the  driveway,  Gangleshanks  fol 
lowing  awestricken  at  his  heels.  When  half-way 
out  he  stopped.  His  companion  breathed  a  relieved 
sigh. 

"Look  here,"  said  Beany.  "If  I  do  this  an' 
there's  no  fire  we  go  to  jail." 

"Why  we?"  began  Gangleshanks,  but  Beany  ig 
nored  him. 

"  'Member  what  ol'  man  McGruder  said.  'If 
there's  a  fire  somewheres  they  can't  send  you  to 
jail.'  " 

[88] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Don't  be  a  nut,"  was  Gangleshanks'  only  com* 
ment. 

"Well,  I'm  goin'  to  light  one." 

Beany  turned  back  into  the  yard.  Along  the 
fence  corner  the  leaves  had  been  blown  into  a  drift 
half  a  foot  deep.  Pulling  a  box  of  matches  from 
his  pocket  he  lit  several  and  held  them  under  the 
pile.  His  enterprise  was  rewarded  by  a  few  thin 
curls  of  smoke  which  quickly  blended  into  a  single 
column.  Beany  stepped  back  scarcely  able  to  credit 
jiis  own  audacity. 

"Now  you  done  it,"  announced  Gangleshanks 
comfortingly. 

But  somewhere  within  Beany  was  the  spirit  of 
Sydney  Carton. 

"Pooh!"  he  said.  "Old  Pat  does  that  every  day. 
What  d'you  s'pose  they  do  with  all  the  leaves? 
Keep 'em?" 

Having  no  ideas  and  little  interest  on  the  subject 
Gangleshanks  was  silent.  Beany  turned  his  back 
on  the  smouldering  pile  and  walked  firmly  if  not 
briskly  up  the  drive.  Only  once  did  he  waver  and 
look  back.  A  large  cloud  of  smoke  slanted  skyward 
across  the  yard. 

[89] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"I  guess  they  can't  put  us  in  jail  for  that  fire," 
he  said. 

If  Gangleshanks  had  offered  the  least  argument 
he  would  have  found  a  ready  listener.  Before  crime 
of  such  magnitude,  however,  he  was  dumb.  As  they 
approached  the  fire  box  their  pace  grew  slower. 
Beany  stopped  and  turned  to  look  once  more  in  the 
direction  of  the  yard.  Fanned  by  a  stiff  breeze  the 
leaves  were  apparently  catching  in  fine  shape.  A 
good-sized  column  of  smoke  was  now  rising  over 
the  roof  of  the  vacant  house.  It  traveled  across 
the  yards  and  over  the  city  until  it  was  caught  and 
dispersed  by  the  winds. 

A  man  came  out  of  one  of  the  houses  across  the 
street.  He  turned  and  walked  away  from  the-m. 
Beany  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  "We  got  to  wait 
'til  he  goes,"  he  said.  He  felt  like  a  man  who,  hav 
ing  boasted  that  he  always  took  cold  baths  in  the 
morning  regardless  of  the  temperature,  finds  that 
the  water  has  momentarily  ceased  to  run  in  the 
faucets. 

"He  won't  see  you,"  said  the  relentless  Gangle 
shanks. 

"No,  of  course  he  won't,"  snapped  Beany.  "Who 
ever  said  he  would?  How  do  you  know  he  won't 

[90] 


AND  THE  TUB 

hear  us,  though?  You  don't  know  how  much  noise 
this  thing  is  going  to  make.  It  may  ring  the  darn 
oF  alarm  right  here." 

This  was  a  new  thought.  Gangleshanks  looked 
about:  him  dubiously. 

"That's  right,"  he  agreed.  "I  guess  we  better 
wait." 

To  Beany's  tortured  imagination  the  man  was 
equipped  with  seven  league  boots.  He  tore  down 
(he  street  with  the  speed  of  a  whippet  and  was  out 
of  sight  in  an  instant.  They  took  a  step  nearer 
the  alarm.  A  delivery  wagon  rattled  slowly  round 
the  corner. 

Beany  feigned  an  exasperation  which  he  did  not 
feel.  "Golly  day!  Now  I  got  to  wait  'til  that's  out 
o'  the  way."  He  stood  irresolute.  "Perhaps  it 
might  be  better  to  wait  'til  there  wasn't  so  many 
people  around." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Gangleshanks  with  the 
nearest  thing  to  a  sneer  of  which  he  was  capable. 

Anger  once  more  reinforced  Beany's  ebbing 
morale.  "All  right,  I'll  do  it  now.  I'll  show  you 
soon's  that  wagon  get's  out  o'  the  way." 

He  prayed  that  the  wagon  might  stop  at  every 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

house  to  deliver  goods.    He  hoped  that  every  cook 
in  the  block  would  regale  the  driver  with  a  meal. 

He  was  doomed  to  disappointment.  Instead  of 
stopping,  the  driver  suddenly  rose  from  his  seat  and 
began  to  belabor  the  horse's  flanks  with  the  end 
of  the  reins. 

"Gidap,"  he  cried,  and  the  animal  broke  into  a 
frightened  canter.  To  Beany,  whose  time  sense  was 
accelerated  a  thousand  per  cent,  the  horse  appeared 
a  veritable  Pegasus. 

"Gidap,  you  lazy  hunk  o'  crew  bait,"  called  the 
affectionate  driver.  Horse  and  driver  tore  down 
the  street  and  disappeared  round  the  corner  with 
dizzy  speed. 

Beany  looked  in  vain  for  further  interruption. 
Goldsmith  might  have  used  the  street  as  an  inspira 
tion  for  his  poem.  Once  more  he  was  face  to  face 
with  the  red  tormentor. 

He  turned  for  a  final  look  at  the  smoke  from  the 
burning  leaves.  The  column  had  doubled  in  size. 
If  Mr.  McGruder  was  a  dependable  authority  they 
were  technically  safe.  Never  apparently  had  the 
time  been  more  propitious  for  experiments  with  fire 
alarms.  Just  then  Beany  was  struck  by  a  happy 
thought. 

[92] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Golly  day,  I  wonder  if  these  darn  fools  think  a 
fellow  is  goin'  to  break  the  glass  with  his  finger.  I 
guess  we  can't  do  anything  'til  I  go  home  an'  get 
a  hammer." 

"You  don't  need  a  hammer,"  said  Gangleshanks 
cheerily.  "Use  this."  He  offered  Beany  a  huge 
jackknife  which  would  have  been  equal  to  the  task 
of  cracking  a  safe. 

Ordinarily  Gangleshanks  was  the  last  person  in 
the  world  to  have  a  helpful  suggestion.  If  anything 
dropped  down  a  grating  he  never  had  the  least  idea 
how  to  get  it  out.  Once,  when  Beany  had  caught 
his  finger  in  a  wringer,  he  had  to  go  all  the  way 
upstairs  and  get  his  mother  to  explain  how  they 
might  liberate  it.  Now,  however,  he  had  suddenly 
become  a  mine  of  resourcefulness.  Beany  felt  in 
stinctively  that  it  would  be  useless  to  struggle. 

"I  may  break  the  knife,"  he  warned. 

"Go  ahead,"  said  the  generous  boy.  "It's  an  old 
one." 

"I  thought  you  just  got  it  for  your  birthday?" 

"Oh,  well,  I  don't  care  about  it." 

Beany  shut  his  eyes,  took  a  long  breath  and  struck 
at  the  little  pane  of  glass.  There  was  a  tinkle  and 

[93] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

an  exclamation.  He  had  struck  so  hard  that  he  had 
hurt  his  finger  on  the  side  of  the  opening. 

"Pull  it.  Pull  it,"  cried  Gangleshanks,  jumping 
up  and  down  with  excitement.  "Pull  it  down."  He 
seemed  to  feel  that  this  operation  was  somewhat  like 
mixing  a  bromo  seltzer;  once  it  was  started  it  must 
be  finished  with  despatch  or  the  desired  effect  was 
lost. 

Without  releasing  his  breath  Beany  inserted  his 
finger  in  the  opening  and  pulled  down  the  hook 
according  to  Hoyle.  The  box  broke  forth  into  a 
series  of  wheezes  and  clicks,  then  lapsed  once  more 
into  immobility. 


[94] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XII 

FIRE! 

They  looked  at  one  another,  their  eyes  twice  their 
normal  size.  If  the  trees  which  bordered  the  street 
on  either  side  had  come  crashing  to  the  pavement, 
if  the  sedate  brick  house  behind  them  had  split 
asunder,  they  would  have  thought  nothing  of  it. 
Such  actions  would  have  been  entirely  compatible 
with  existing  conditions. 

They  stood  there  staring  and  motionless  for  what 
seemed  an  age.  It  was  in  reality  fifteen  seconds. 
Beany  was  the  first  to  regain  consciousness.  "Golly 
day,"  he  said. 

"Gee  whizz,"  replied  Gangleshanks  in  a  reverent 
tone.  Further  comment  would  have  been  out  of 
place. 

They  both  glanced  down  the  street.  Not  a  soul 
was  in  sight.  The  very  stillness  was  more  ominous 
and  terrifying  than  if  the  street  had  burst  forth 
into  bedlam  at  the  first  click  from  the  box.  It 

[95] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

was  the  lull  before  the  storm  which  foretells  the 
confusion  to  follow. 

As  their  minds  began  to  function  once  more  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation  was  the  first  to  manifest 
itself. 

"Le's  get  out  o'  here,"  said  Beany.  His  voice 
was  thick  as  if  he  was  suffering  from  asthma. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  street  stood  a  large  brown 
house  whose  grounds  were  surrounded  by  a  hedge. 
With  mutual  accord  they  started  towards  it,  at 
first  walking  rapidly,  then  breaking  into  open  flight. 
Once  prone  on  the  grass  behind  the  hedge  they 
breathed  more  easily.  Looking  through  the 
branches  they  could  see  the  smoke  rising  in  a  yel 
lowish  grey  column  behind  the  roofs. 

Far  away  they  heard  the  long  drawn  wail  of  a 
motor  fire  engine.  Gangleshanks  clutched  Beany  by 
the  arm.  They  waited.  The  noise  grew  louder.  It 
was  joined  by  another,  higher  pitched  note.  The  fire 
department  was  running  in  full  cry. 

The  first  piece  to  arrive  was  a  big,  lumbering 
engine  truck.  It  drew  up  near  the  curb  not  twenty 
yards  away.  Firemen  sprang  down.  The  hose  was 
attached  to  the  hydrant.  Another  piece  drew  up 
and  another.  Lines  of  hose  began  to  snake  their 

[96] 


AND  THE  TUB 

way  about  the  street.  Front  doors  were  opened. 
Women  with  anxious  faces  appeared  on  verandahs 
and  lawns.  Men  came  running  from  gardens  and 
barns.  A  policeman  rounded  the  corner. 

Having  attached  the  hose  the  firemen  looked 
about  them  uncertainly.  Questions  were  asked. 
Heads  were  shaken.  There  was  much  excitement, 
but  no  fire.  Then,  the  stage  having  been  set,  the 
chief  arrived  with  sliding  tires.  The  fire  depart 
ment,  eager  to  put  something  out,  looked  at  him 
expectantly. 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks  watched  him  pause  to 
speak  to  a  fireman  in  a  white  helmet.  He  pointed 
in  the  direction  of  the  vacant  house  behind  which 
the  smoke  was  rising  more  densely  than  ever.  The 
chief  gave  an  order  and  started  for  the  yard.  The 
fire  department  followed.  The  entire  population  of 
the  block  fell  in  behind. 

Beany  looked  about  and  saw  to  his  surprise  that 
instead  of  being  hidden  behind  the  hedge  as  he  had 
supposed  they  were  surrounded  by  people.  They 
were  all  talking  excitedly  and  paid  no  attention  to 
either  Gangleshanks  or  himself.  Now  that  the 
danger  had  been  definitely  located  they  flocked  out 

[97] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

of  the  yard  and  across  the  street  in  an  effort  to  get 
nearer  to  it. 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks  stood  up  and  looked  un 
easily  in  the  direction  of  the  Invincubel  Atheletic 
Club.  They  were  almost  alone  now.  The  crowd 
had  pressed  closer  to  the  fire.  The  police  had  ar 
rived.  An  air  of  gaiety  hung  over  the  scene. 
Walnut  Street  was  being  treated  to  a  welcome  diver 
sion. 

"Golly  day,  they'll  be  sore  when  they  find  it's 
nothin'  but  leaves,"  said  Beany,  scratching  his  head 
thoughtfully.  The  magnitude  of  what  he  had  done 
was  just  beginning  to  dawn  upon  him.  The  cheering, 
happy  crowd,  the  snorting  engines,  the  busy  firemen 
were  all  the  results  of  his  work.  Now  that  the  deed 
had  been  accomplished  without  any  great  calamity 
falling  about  his  head  he  began  to  feel  some  of 
the  prestige  which  must  be  his  for  evermore. 

Gangleshanks  said  nothing,  but  looked  at  him 
admiringly.  For  the  time  being  he  was  Beany's 
servant.  All  thought  of  competing  with  this  master 
mind  had  been  abandoned. 

"Gee  whizz,"  he  said.    "You  got  nerve." 

Beany's  small  chest  swelled  to  the  limits  of  its 
expansion.  He  tried  to  look  bored.  "Le's  walk 

[98] 


AND  THE  TUB 

across  the  street  an'  see  what  they're  doin',"  he 
suggested  carelessly. 

"Go  over  there !"  exclaimed  Gangleshanks  more 
and  more  astonished  at  his  companion's  audacity. 

"Sure.  Nobody's  goin'  to  notice  you  in  that 
hunch." 

On  either  side  of  the  deserted  house  the  crowd 
watched  the  work  of  the  firemen  in  the  backyard. 
The  boys  crossed  the  street  and  pushed  their  way 
into  a  tiptoeing  group.  By  dint  of  relentless  squirm 
ing  and  shoving  they  managed  to  reach  the  front 
ranks  with  no  other  opposition  than  a  number  of 
comments  on  their  manners  and  bringing  up. 

Beany  stuck  his  head  between  a  portly  cook  and 
a  postman.  The  backyard,  which  fifteen  minutes 
ago  had  been  such  a  peaceful,  dreary  waste,  was 
now  filled  with  men  and  fire  hose.  And  then  his 
eyes  once  more  grew  large  and  round.  The  fire, 
which  he  had  lit  so  trustingly,  had  crept  along  the 
leaves  banked  against  the  fence  until  it  reached  the 
barn.  Here  it  had  gone  in  for  bigger  things. 

The  entire  corner  of  the  barn  was  wrapped  in 
small  flames  which  had  climbed  to  the  roof  and 
were  rapidly  spreading  along  its  shingled  surface. 
Two  firemen  were  mounting  ladders  with  hand  ex- 

[99] 


tinguishers.     Then    as    Beany   watched   he    saw   a 
tongue  of  flame  shoot  from  the  downstairs  window. 

A  fireman,  equipped  with  a  spike-nosed  axe,  came 
forward  and  attacked  the  door.  He  might  have 
opened  it  with  the  knob,  but  that  would  have  lacked 
technique.  At  each  blow  the  crowd  gave  vent  to 
its  approval  with  a  delighted  shout.  Two  other 
men  with  picks  began  to  rip  the  boards  from  the 
fence  where  it  ran  beside  the  barn. 

"Knock  down  d'  barn,"  advised  a  young  man 
with  an  unpleasant  complexion  who  had  wormed 
his  way  in  next  to  Beany. 

"See  'f  y'  c'n  breek  it  all  up  'fore  it  burns,"  sug 
gested  a  voice  from  the  rear.  Whereupon  the  crowd 
laughed  and  the  policeman  selecting  a  few  of  the 
best-looking  housemaids,  pushed  them  back  play 
fully.  The  fire  had  developed  an  excellent  spirit  of 
camaraderie  among  the  inhabitants  of  Walnut  Street. 

Beany  turned  to  Gangleshanks  so  quickly  that  he 
inflicted  bodily  injury  on  the  pimply-faced  young 
man  at  his  side. 

"Sa-ay,  Who  d'y  t'ink  y'r  walkin'  on?"  inquired 
that  personage,  emphasizing  his  question  with  a 
shove.  But  Beany  paid  no  attention. 

"The  Tub,"  he  gasped. 

[100] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  ELIXIR  OF  FAME 

Gangleshanks'  face  turned  several  shades  lighter. 
"Gee  whizz.  Don't  you  s'pose  he's  out  by  this 
time?" 

"Certainly  not.  Golly  day,  that  Tub  wouldn't 
wake  up  if  he  was  roastin'  to  death.  I'm  goin'  to 
let  'em  know." 

He  attempted  to  crawl  between  the  postman  and 
the  cook.  A  hand  descended  on  his  shoulder  with 
no  uncertain  grip. 

"Keep  back  there,  now,  an'  don't  have  me  a-tellin' 
y'  no  more,"  said  the  voice  of  Law  above  him. 

"But  the  Tub "  began  Beany  frantically,  torn 

between  fear  of  the  uniform  and  his  desire  to  save 
his  fellow  clubman  from  a  horrible  death.  "The 
Tub " 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  was  drowned.  "Go  on 
wid  y'  now,  or  I'll  give  y'  somethin'  to  make  y'  re 
member  y'  wished  y'  had."  With  which  jumbled 
threat  the  Law  flourished  its  stick  menacingly. 

[101] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Come  on,"  whispered  Gangleshanks.  "Le's  go 
round  the  yards  an'  come  up  from  the  side." 

They  wriggled  out  of  the  crowd,  ran  down  the 
street  and  entered  a  yard,  separated  by  several 
houses  from  the  scene  of  the  fire.  They  took  the 
two  intervening  fences  as  if  they  had  been  hurdles 
and  found  themselves  in  the  yard  adjoining  the 
burning  barn.  Two  firemen  were  dragging  a  hose 
to  the  rear.  A  policeman,  who  was  standing  near 
the  kitchen  door  discussing  the  situation,  saw  them 
and  started  in  their  direction.  Beany  began  to  run 
pointing  to  the  barn  as  he  approached. 

"There's  a  fella  up  there." 

"Get  out  o'  th'  way,"  said  the  fireman,  as  Beany 
planted  himself  directly  in  his  path. 

"There's  a  fella  in  there  burnin'  to  death,"  cried 
Beany  desperately.  All  these  people  acted  as  though 
they  were  deaf. 

The  two  firemen  paused  and  looked  at  Beany  in 
astonishment.  "Where?" 

Beany  pointed  to  the  small  upstairs  window  in 
the  side  of  the  barn.  One  of  the  firemen  shouted 
something  to  the  next  yard.  The  chief  came  over 
to  the  fence  and  stared  curiously  at  Beany  and 
Gangleshanks.  He  appeared  to  take  more  interest 

[102] 


AND  THE  TUB 

in  them  than  in  the  unfortunate  being  who  was  be 
ing  pot-roasted  within. 

"Come,  come,"  he  said  finally,  apparently  at  loss 
for  any  better  command. 

Beany  felt  the  hand  of  the  Law  once  more  upon 
his  shoulder.  He  wriggled  from  under  it  and  ran 
towards  the  fence. 

UA  boy — up  there — asleep,"  he  shouted,  trans 
lating  the  situation  into  the  simplest  possible  lan 
guage  and  pointing  at  the  same  time  to  the  main 
window  of  the  Invincubel  Atheletic  Club. 

The  chief  turned  to  a  fireman  who  was  standing 
behind  him  and  gave  an  order.  A  ladder  was  raised 
against  the  window.  A  fireman  ascended  and  with 
a  few  blows  from  an  axe  demolished  it  to  the  ap 
proval  of  the  most  exacting  spectator.  He  crawled 
in.  A  moment  later  the  face  of  the  astonished  Tub 
appeared  in  the  opening  with  the  fireman  behind 
him. 

The  Tub  looked  out  at  the  confusion  of  the  yard, 
at  the  crowds,  at  the  smoke  which  hung  heavily  in 
the  air.  Then  he  rubbed  his  eyes  in  bewilderment 
and  looked  again.  The  fireman  said  something  to 
him.  Very  gingerly  the  Tub  climbed  out  of  the 
place  where  the  window  had  been  and  began  to 

[103] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

descend  the  ladder.  At  this  unexpected  treat  the 
crowd  went  wild.  Then  they  began  to  criticize  the 
Tub's  physique  which  was  admirably  displayed 
against  the  evening  sky. 

"He  won't  burn.  He's  too  fat,"  cried  a  voice 
which  sounded  like  that  of  the  bad-blooded  young 
man. 

"Where'd  you  get  them  legs?"  inquired  another 
interested  spectator. 

A  gentleman  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  re 
quested  the  firemen  to  save  his  child. 

While  this  dramatic  incident  was  taking  place  an 
automobile  drew  up  near  the  house  and  a  large, 
red-faced  man  got  out  hastily.  It  was  Mr.  Hem 
ingway  who  had  just  received  word  from  a  neighbor 
that  his  vacant  house  was  on  fire.  He  pushed 
through  the  crowd  in  time  to  see  his  son  make  a 
sensational  exit  from  the  burning  barn. 

The  Tub,  both  mortified  and  mystified,  reached 
the  ground  safely.  He  was  seized  upon  by  a  wait 
ing  policeman  and  brought  before  Mr.  Hemingway. 

"That  was  a  close  un  f'r  th'  yung  un,  sir,"  said 
the  officer,  touching  his  cap. 

Mr.  Hemingway  needed  no  explanation.  He  had 
seen.  Gratitude  and  thanksgiving  filled  his  honest 

[104] 


AND  THE  TUB 

heart.  Grabbing  the  Tub  he  hugged  him  before 
the  entire  crowd.  Then,  as  the  young  man's  face 
came  close  to  his,  he  relaxed  his  embrace  to  sniff 
curiously.  Disciplinary  instincts  superseded  those  of 
affection. 

"You've  been  smoking,"  said  Mr.  Hemingway. 

The  fire  was  extinguished.  The  damage  was 
slight.  The  crowd  melted  away  disgruntled.  The 
engines  departed.  Quiet  settled  down  once  more  on 
Walnut  Street. 

Mrs.  Fleming  held  out  the  paper  to  Beany  as 
he  came  down  the  stairs  the  following  morning.  On 
the  front  page  was  the  story  of  the  fire.  In  head 
lines  above  it  Beany  read  the  words : 

YOUTHFUL  SMOKER'S  NARROW  ESCAPE 
BOY  TRAPPED  IN  BARN  FIRED  BY  LIGHTED  CIGARETTE 

SAVED  BY  PASSING  COMRADES 

QUICK  WIT  OF  JAMES  FLEMING  AND  HARRY 

BRACEWORTH  CAUSES  RESCUE 

Mrs.  Fleming  glowed  with  pride. 
"Beany,  darling,"  she  cried,  "we're  so  proud  of 
you." 

And  Mr.  Fleming  beamed  at  his  son  over  his 

[105] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

coffee  cup.     He  had  never  noticed  what  a  chip  of 
the  old  block  he  was  until  this  morning. 

"That  was  great  stuff,"  he  said.  "Great  stuff!" 
Then,  fearing  that  someone  might  accuse  him  of 
emotionalism,  he  added,  "I  don't  see  why  you  didn't 
save  something  worth  while  when  you  were  at  it. 
If  I  were  that  fellow's  father  he'd  never  pass  a 
cigar  store  again  without  a  scream  of  pain." 

Beany  swallowed  his  breakfast  with  hasty  gulps. 
In  honor  of  the  occasion  he  was  allowed  an  un 
limited  supply  of  griddle  cakes.  He  waved  them 
away,  however,  after  the  third  helping  and  rose 
from  the  table. 

"Why,  you're  not  going  to  school  yet,  are  you?" 
asked  his  surprised  mother.  "You're  half  an  hour 
early." 

"It's  a  good  thing  to  be  early,"  said  Beany  vir 
tuously. 

A  few  moments  later  he  and  Gangleshanks,  who 
had  never  been  known  to  be  on  time  before  in  the 
history  of  the  school,  sat  on  the  front  steps  and 
said  good  morning  to  the  first  pupil  to  appear. 

And  never  a  twinge  of  conscience  and  never  a 
doubt  as  to  their  worthiness  shook  their  honest 
souls. 

[106] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SUNDAY,  A  DAY  OF  REST 

The  usual  Sunday  morning  silence  hung  over  the 
house.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fleming,  separated  by  a 
double  barrier  of  Sunday  paper,  consumed  their 
coffee  and  toast  absently.  The  third  place  at  the 
table  was  vacant. 

Mrs.  Fleming  glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  mantel, 
drained  the  last  few  drops  from  her  coffee  cup,  and 
arose.  "He  must  have  gone  to  sleep  again.  I 
haven't  heard  a  sound  from  his  room." 

"It's  all  nonsense !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fleming, 
pushing  the  illustrated  section  from  him  with  some 
heat.  "There's  no  reason  in  the  world  why  he 
shouldn't  get  down  to  breakfast  with  the  rest  of 
the  family.  Here  it  is  a  quarter  to  ten.  He's  going 
to  be  late  to  Sunday  School." 

"He's  not  going  to  be  late,"  Mrs.  Fleming  as 
sured  him  firmly.  "He  never  has  been  and  he's  not 
going  to  commence  today  of  all  days." 

She  disappeared  upstairs  and  opened  the  door  of 
[107] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Beany's  bedroom.  A  head  emerged  from  the  air 
tight  cavern  between  two  pillows  where  it  had  been 
buried  to  shut  out  the  light.  Without  opening  his 
eyes  Beany  turned  an  agonized  face  towards  the 
door. 

"All  right,  mother.     I'm  gettin'  up." 

"Beany,  do  you  know  what  time  it  is?" 

"It  isn't  late.  Golly  day!  It  doesn't  take  me  a 
couple  of  hours  to  dress,  you  know." 

"James  Fleming,  you  get  out  of  bed  this  minute." 

"Yes,  mother." 

Mrs.  Fleming  entered  the  room  and  closed  the 
bedroom  door  behind  her.  Beany  heard  the  noise 
and,  interpreting  it  as  a  withdrawal,  allowed  his 
head  to  drop  once  more  to  the  pillow  where  he  lay 
contentedly  curled  up — a  small  ball  of  comfort. 

To  his  surprise,  the  covers  suddenly  flew  from 
fiis  body  and  he  found  himself  lying  on  the  mat 
tress,  unprotected  from  the  fresh  morning  air.  He 
rolled  over  on  his  back  and,  half  opening  his  eyes, 
looked  up  crossly. 

"Golly  day,  mother,  I'll  get  up.  You  don't  have 
to  do  that.  People  can't  wake  up  all  of  a  sudden 
the  way  you  seem  to  think  they  can.  It  takes  a 

[108] 


AND  THE  TUB 

couple  of  minutes  to  get  awake.     Golly  day,  that's 
a 


"Beany,  get  right  out  of  that  bed.  You  have  just 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  to  dress  and  get  your 
breakfast  and  get  down  to  the  church.  You're  not 
going  to  be  late.  I  can  tell  you  that  right  now." 

Beany  slid  limply  across  the  bed  on  his  back  till 
his  feet  touched  the  floor.  Then  he  sat  up  and 
rubbed  his  eyes. 

"Do  I  have  to  go  to  that  old  Sunday  School 
again?" 

"You  do.  And  you  know  it  perfectly  well,  so 
there's  no  need  of  bringing  that  up." 

"But,  mother,  this  is  the  last  day.  They  don't 
teach  you  anything  today.  Everybody  just  sits 
around  and  they  hand  out  prizes.  Couldn't  I  just 
go  to  the  picnic  an'  leave  out  goin'  to  the  church?" 

"Certainly  not.  This  is  the  one  day  in  the  year 
when  the  whole  school  must  be  there." 

"But,  mother,  I'm  not  goin'  to  get  any  prizes.  All 
I'll  do  is  just  sit  there.  Golly  day,  it's  not  much 
fun  just  to  sit  there." 

"Never  mind  if  it's  fun  or  not."  Mrs.  Fleming's 
voice  competed  with  the  noise  of  roaring  waters 
from  the  bathtub.  "You  don't  go  to  Sunday 

[109] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

School  to  have  fun.  You  go  to  learn  how  to  be 
have." 

Beany  stalked  sullenly  into  the  bathroom.  He 
felt  that  Sunday  was  a  day  of  rest  for  everybody 
but  himself.  If  the  Bible  proclaimed  the  Sabbath 
as  a  workless  day,  he  reasoned,  and  if  it  was  a 
dependable  authority  as  he  had  been  taught  to  be 
lieve,  then  why  should  he  be  hauled  forcibly  from 
bed  each  Sunday  morning  and  made  to  go  to  a 
school  where  his  very  presence  belied  the  teachings 
he  received? 

Mrs.  Fleming  returned  before  he  had  finished 
dressing.  This  was  the  day  on  which  the  Sunday 
School  had  its  commencement  exercises.  The 
gallery  would  be  filled  with  fond  and  critical  parents. 
Mrs.  Fleming  was  determined  that  if  Beany  were 
not  to  figure  among  the  sheep  neither  would  he 
figure  among  the  goats. 

In  honor  of  the  occasion,  therefore,  he  was 
crammed  into  an  objectionable  new  suit  and  a  pair 
of  painfully  unscratched  tan  shoes  which  squeaked. 
To  accentuate  his  misery  Mrs.  Fleming  insisted  upon 
supplanting  his  ordinary  black  string  tie  with  a 
large,  stiff,  bow  affair.  He  backed  away  as  she 

[no] 


AND   THE  TUB 

brought  it  into  the  bedroom  as  a  horse  backs  away 
from  its  bridle. 

"Golly  day,  you're  not  goin'  to  make  me  wear  that 
thing,  are  you?"  he  asked  with  a  voice  of  horror. 

"Now  there's  nothing  the  matter  with  this  tie," 
said  Mrs.  Fleming,  who  had  anticipated  a  battle. 
"You  don't  like  it  just  because  it's  new." 

With  a  swift  gesture  she  encircled  his  neck  and 
began  to  poke  the  tie  beneath  his  Eton  collar. 
Beany  raised  great  pleading  eyes  to  her  face. 

"Mother,  you  don't  want  me  to  look  like  a  sis, 
do  you?"  he  asked,  with  great  earnestness. 

"There's  nothing  sissy  about  this  tie,"  replied 
Mrs.  Fleming  firmly,  continuing  to  pat  and  pull. 

"All  right,"   in  a  martyred  voice.      "If  you  an' 

father  want  me  to  look  like  a  little  girl  I  s'pose  I 

got  to.    An'  when  people  say,  'Who's  that  sissy  over 

there?'  I  s'pose  I  got  to  tell  'em  I'm  Beany  Fleming 

an'  that's  the  way  my  mother  makes  me  dress." 

"Now  if  you  brush  your  hair  again  put  a  towel 
over  your  collar  so  that  you  won't  get  it  all  wet," 
said  Mrs.  Fleming  giving  a  few  last  pats  to  the  bow. 

"I'll  take  it  off."  Beany's  tone  changed  from 
pleading  to  rage.  "I'll  rip  it  off  before  I  get  near 

the  old  school.     I  won't  go  lookin'  like  a " 

[in] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Beany,  do  you  want  me  to  call  your  father?" 
Mrs.  Fleming  laid  her  hand  firmly  on  her  son's 
shoulder. 

Beany  gave  an  indirect  denial  to  the  question  by 
commencing  to  sniff.  His  lip  trembled  and  he  turned 
away  his  head. 

"Golly  day,  I  think  it's  a  darn,  dirty,  mean 
shame,"  he  cried  chokingly.  Having  delivered  him 
self  of  this  sentiment  he  rushed  out  of  the  room. 

"Beany!     Come  here!" 

But  the  indignant  revolutionist  was  already  half 
way  down-stairs. 


[112] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  DISADVANTAGES  OF  PUNCTUALITY 

The  Sunday  School  was  assembled.  The  main 
floor  of  the  auditorium  was  filled  with  scholars.  The 
parents  hovered  above  in  the  balcony  like  minister 
ing  angels.  A  table,  on  which  were  placed  a  number 
of  books  and  a  water  pitcher,  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  small  stage. 

From  the  benches  rose  a  restless  hum  accompanied 
by  much  scraping  of  feet.  This  grew  louder  and 
louder  as  the  moments  passed.  The  five  occupants 
of  the  last  bench  were  engaged  in  crowding  the 
sixth  into  the  aisle.  The  hum  rose  to  a  roar;  then 
subsided  suddenly  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Swope  and  Mr. 
Coffin  entered  the  room. 

Immediately  behind  them  appeared  Beany.  Beads 
of  perspiration  rolled  down  his  face,  his  collar  was 
wilted.  His  breath  came  in  agonized  pants.  Gangle- 
shanks  reached  out  and  pulled  him  into  the  rear 
seat. 

"Gee  whiz,  can't  you  ever  get  any  place  on  time?" 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

he  whispered  as  the  school  rose  to  its  feet  while 
the  principals  took  their  places. 

"Who's  not  on  time?  There's  no  sense  comin' 
the  night  before,  is  they?" 

But  Gangleshanks  had  lost  interest  in  the  ques 
tion.  He  was  examining  Beany's  costume. 

"Where'd  you  get  that  tie?"  he  asked. 

"Don't  you  like  it?"  Beany  was  in  no  mood  for 
criticism. 

"Oh,  lu-lu-look  at  the  shoes  !" 

The  Tub's  voice  was  penetrating.  A  number  of 
Bible  students  turned  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

"You  shut  up !"  exclaimed  Beany  frantically,  "or 
you'll  get  the— 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Swope  prevented  the  Tub  from 
learning  the  rest  by  opening  the  exercises  with  a 
short  prayer.  From  above  nothing  could  be  seen 
but  bent  backs  and  bowed  heads.  If  one  had  been 
concealed  under  the  rear  bench,  however,  he  would 
have  witnessed  a  violent  battle  between  a  pair  of 
new  tan  shoes  and  two  pairs  of  mature  black  ones. 
Superiority  of  numbers  won.  The  blond  contestants 
emerged  from  the  skirmish,  as  the  prayer  ended, 
considerably  scarred. 

Beany,  however,  was  himself  a  past  master  at  the 
[H4] 


AND  THE  TUB 

art  of  persecution.  It  was  always  his  policy  when 
he  felt  himself  becoming  the  object  of  attack  to  shift 
the  burden  onto  shoulders  less  skillful  in  deflection 
than  his  own.  He  looked  about  now  for  some  such 
unfortunate. 

Directly  in  front  sat  Victor  Octavius  Spence. 
Beany  noted  his  presence  with  relief.  Victor  Oc 
tavius  was  the  shining  light  of  the  Sunday  School 
and,  in  consequence,  an  obnoxious  object  to  those 
members  whose  rays  were  so  dim  as  to  be  almost  in 
visible  to  the  naked  eye. 

He  removed  a  pin  which  held  one  of  the  wings 
of  the  offensive  tie  flat  against  his  chest.  Hostilities 
ceased  as  the  attackers  observed  this  act  with  wary 
eyes.  He  stuck  the  pin  through  the  edge  of  his 
shoe-sole  in  such  a  way  that  the  point  projected 
slightly  beyond  the  toe.  Then  crossing  his  knees 
and  folding  his  hands  in  his  lap  he  directed  a  face 
of  earnest  attention  towards  Mr.  Coffin. 

A  small,  taut  portion  of  Victor's  anatomy  ex 
tended  over  the  edge  of  the  bench.  Into  this  Beany 
inserted  the  pin  point  ever  so  slightly.  It  was  a 
delicate  operation  calling  for  a  light  touch.  To  have 
carried  the  joke  a  fraction  of  an  inch  too  far  would 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

have  liberated  forces  calculated  to  give  unwelcome 
publicity  to  the  rear  rows. 

A  tremor  passed  over  Victor's  frame  as  his  nerves 
communicated  the  presence  of  foreign  matter  to  his 
brain.  He  looked  behind  him  and  frowned.  But 
every  eye  in  the  back  row  was  turned  towards  the 
stage  with  absorbed  interest.  Puzzled,  he  turned 
his  attention  once  more  to  the  platform.  Beany  felt 
that  by  keeping  his  wits  about  him  he  might  yet  be 
able  to  live  down  that  terrible  tie  and  those  squeaky 
shoes. 

Mr.  Coffin  read  a  short  report  of  the  work  accom 
plished  by  the  Sunday  School  during  the  year.  Then 
the  real  business  of  the  morning  began — the  award 
ing  of  the  prizes. 

"First  prize  for  scholarship,"  announced  Mr. 
Coffin  in  a  dreary,  nasal  voice.  "Victor  Octavius 
Spence." 

Victor  went  forward  to  receive  the  prize — a  vol 
ume  of  poems.  His  poise  was  remarkable.  He 
ascended  the  small  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the 
stage,  took  the  book  from  Mr.  Coffin's  hand  with 
a  slight  bow,  then,  turning,  stared  calmly  out  over 
the  audience  for  a  moment  before  he  redescended 
into  their  midst.  Mutual  disgust  overflowed  the 

[116] 


AND  THE  TUB 

breasts  of  Beany,  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub.  They 
felt  that  one  of  their  sex  had  not  only  been  put 
through  a  degrading  and  humiliating  ordeal,  but 
had  made  matters  worse  by  appearing  to  enjoy  it. 

The  next  few  prizes  were  awarded  to  little  girls, 
unsupported  by  any  acclamation  from  the  back  row. 
Beany  yawned. 

"Golly  day,  I  wish  they'd  let  us  out  of  here  an' 
go  on  their  ol'  picnic." 

"You  bet,"  agreed  Gangleshanks  heartily.  "I 
don't  see  no  sense  makin'  us  come  here  an'  listen 
to  this  ol'  thing.  Why  don't  they  give  'em  their 
prizes  out  there?" 

"First  prize  for  good  behavior,"  chanted  Mr. 
Coffin.  "Victor  Octavius  Spence." 

Victor  ascended  to  the  platform  once  more  with 
unruffled  composure.  Then,  to  the  contempt  of  the 
three  agnostics  he  proceeded  to  corral  the  prize  for 
neatness,  the  prize  for  Bible  study,  and  the  prize 
for  the  best  examination.  The  pile  of  books  which 
he  clutched  proudly  under  his  arm  grew  to  unwieldy 
proportions.  Beany  leaned  forward  and  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder. 

"You're  a  good  little  boy,"  he  whispered,  "an' 

[II?] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

this  afternoon  you  c'n  go  out  an'  roll  your  doll 
carriage." 

At  this  sally  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  rocked 
back  and  forth  with  silent  laughter.  Victor  scowled. 

"Why  don't  you  fellows  shut  up?"  he  asked. 

"First  prize  for  punctuality,"  droned  Mr.  Coffin. 
"James  Penhallow  Fleming." 

Beany,  intent  upon  the  enjoyment  of  his  own  joke, 
did  not  hear  his  name.  Some  little  girls  in  the  front 
row  snickered.  The  room  turned  expectantly  with 
the  peculiar  instinct  which  crowds  have  for  locating 
individuals  in  their  midst. 

"James  Penhallow  Fleming,"  repeated  Mr.  Cof 
fin,  peering  towards  the  rear  rows. 

The  giggle  spread.  Even  the  spectators  in  the 
gallery  smiled  indulgently.  All  but  Mrs.  Fleming 
who  looked  in  vain  for  her  son.  At  the  second  repe 
tition  of  his  name  he  started  and  stared  at  the 
speaker  in  amazement.  Then,  assisted  from  beneath 
by  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub,  he  rose  to  his  feet 
and  walked  down  the  aisle  in  a  daze. 

Squeak,  squeak,  squeak,  went  the  new  shoes.  To 
his  supersensitive  ear-drums  the  noise  reverberated 
like  thunder.  He  tried  walking  on  his  toes,  but  it 
made  no  difference.  He  felt  himself  growing  red. 

[118] 


AND  THE  TUB 

The  stage  receded  further  and  further  away.  The 
room  became  a  sea  of  indistinct  faces. 

He  knew  that  everybody  was  laughing  at  him; 
whispering  about  him.  He  was  a  joke.  His  feet 
became  lumps  of  coal.  His  legs  refused  to  swing 
naturally  from  their  joints. 

The  steps  to  the  stage — hundreds  of  them  it 
seemed,  swayed  and  tried  to  throw  him  at  each 
ascent.  Mr.  Coffin  and  Mr.  Swope  sat  behind  the 
green-covered  table  laughing  at  him.  Mr.  Coffin 
pushed  something  into  his  hands.  He  didn't  know 
what  it  was  until  later. 

Then  the  whole  terrible  journey  was  reversed. 
Squeak,  squeak,  squeak,  went  the  shoes.  The  faces 
continued  to  leer  as  he  passed.  He  heard  a  noise 
like  a  crackling  fire  which  he  realized  was  applause. 
There  was  a  terrible  second  when  his  foot  slipped 
on  the  polished  floor.  Smothered  laughter  came  to 
his  ears  through  the  applause.  Then  he  was  back 
once  more  with  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub. 

He  did  not  dare  to  raise  his  eyes  for  a  long 
while.  Then  only  inch  by  inch.  When  his  vision. 
had  finally  encompassed  the  room  he  realized  with 
something  of  a  start  that  nobody  was  paying  the 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

slightest  attention  to  him.     Gangleshanks  and  the 
Tub  were  examining  his  prize. 

Victor  Octavius  was  returning  to  his  seat  having 
just  captured  another  trophy. 

"What  did  you  get?"  he  asked,  with  the  intimacy 
born  of  common  experience. 

"Book,"  said  Beany  shortly. 

"What  book?"  asked  Victor. 

"Don't  know,"  mumbled  Beany,  fumbling  with  his 
hat. 

"Le's  see  it,"  Victor  reached  back  and  grabbed 
the  book  from  Gangleshanks'  hands. 

"The  Golden  Treasury,"  he  said  contemptuously. 
"I  got  three  of  those  home." 

"Keep    'em,"    flared    Beany.      He    seized    "The 
Golden  Treasury"  and  sat  upon  it  grimly. 

Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  involuntarily  moved 
away.  They  felt  that  he  was  no  longer  one  of 
them.  The  rear  row  lapsed  into  a  gloomy  and  mor 
bid  silence.  Beany  noticed  the  change  and  became 
more  and  more  morose.  Once  Victor  turned  to 
speak  to  him,  but  he  answered  him  so  savagely  that 
the  experiment  was  not  repeated.  The  exercises 
dragged  to  a  close. 

"And  now,"    announced   the    Rev.    Mr.    Swope, 
[120] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"the  prize  winners  will  form  behind  the  flag  and 
march  out  of  the  room  followed  by  the  choir.  The 
rest  of  the  school  will  keep  their  seats  until  they 
have  gone." 

Victor  was  up  in  an  instant.  "Come  on,"  he  said 
eagerly. 

Beany  hesitated.  "I'm  not  goin',"  he  announced. 
Then  he  realized  the  impossibility  of  escape.  A 
number  of  eyes  were  already  upon  him.  Rising  from 
his  seat  he  followed  Victor  dejectedly  down  the  aisle 
with  the  whispered  jeers  of  Gangleshanks  and  the 
Tub  ringing  in  his  ears.  There  were  eight  prize 
winners;  Beany  and  Victor  and  six  little  girls.  The 
last  drop  of  gall  had  been  added  to  his  cup  of  bitter 
ness. 

He  found  himself  marching  beside  Sarah  Trum- 
bell,  age  nine.  The  organ  was  playing  "Onward, 
Christian  Soldiers."  He  didn't  even  pretend  to  sing 
the  words,  but  kept  his  mouth  set  and  grim.  The 
squeaking  of  his  shoes  drowned  the  sound  of  the 
portable  organ  and  the  choir.  His  tie  flared  before 
him  like  a  banner. 


[121] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

RECOVERED  SELF-RESPECT 

Sunday  School  commencement  was  always  fol 
lowed  by  a  picnic  in  Lonewillow  Park.  The  eight 
prize  winners  were  crowded  into  a  special  automo 
bile.  The  rest  of  the  Sunday  School  followed  in 
auto  busses. 

Beany  was  glad  to  get  away  from  them  for  a 
short  time.  He  could  not  have  faced  the  promis 
cuity  of  an  auto  bus  after  that  procession.  He  had 
been  publicly  disgraced.  Never  again  would  he  be 
admitted  to  the  inner  circle  of  his  former  associates. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fleming  came  out  of  the  parish 
house  as  he  was  getting  into  the  automobile.  He 
.hoped  they  wouldn't  see  him,  but  his  mother  spied 
him  immediately. 

"Beany!"  she  cried.  "That  was  splendid  of  you. 
I  had  no  idea  you  were  going  to  win  a  prize.  Aren't 
you  glad  now  that  I  made  you  get  to  school  on 
time?" 

Then,  as  if  to  add  to  his  humiliation,  she  kissed 
[122] 


AND  THE  TUB 

him  right  before  Victor  Octavius  and  the  six  little 
girls.  Mr.  Fleming  hung  back.  He  also  looked 
rather  uncomfortable  and  sheepish.  Perhaps  he  had 
a  vague  understanding  of  what  was  going  on  in  his 
son's  mind. 

"And  who  do  you  suppose  is  waiting  at  the 
house?"  asked  Mrs.  Fleming. 

Beany  shook  his  head  with  little  interest. 

"Your  Uncle  Frank  and  your  Aunt  Kate.  They 
came  in  from  Chicago  just  after  you'd  left.  I'm  go 
ing  to  bring  them  out  to  the  picnic  grounds  right 
after  dinner." 

"Oh,  mother " 

"Now,  that's  nonsense,"  she  interrupted.  "They'll 
be  crazy  to  see  you  and  know  that  you're  doing  so 
splendidly.  I  don't  think  she  had  a  very  good  im 
pression  of  you  when  she  was  here  last." 

This  was  undoubtedly  true. 

"You're  holding  up  the  car,"  suggested  Mr. 
Fleming. 

They  were  off,  Beany  sitting  in  the  back  beside 
Sarah  Trumbell.  Victor,  who  was  more  polite,  had 
chosen  one  of  the  folding  seats  in  front  of  them. 
Beany  was  sullen  and  morose.  He  wore  his  cap 
pulled  far  down  over  one  eye  in  an  attempt  to  con- 

[123] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

vince  the  passers-by  that  he  was  not  one  of  the 
company  but  a  tough  character  who  had  been  placed 
there  by  a  whim  of  fate. 

Victor  Octavius  piled  his  prizes  at  his  feet  and 
gave  evidence  of  aspirations  to  become  the  life  of 
the  party.  It  was  obvious  that  he  would  receive  no 
competition  from  Beany. 

"Le's  play  that  game  where  you  see  things,"  he 
suggested.  "A  horse  counts  one,  an'  a  black  cat 
five — you  know." 

Beany  continued  to  stare  glumly  over  the  side  of 
the  car.  The  six  little  girls  giggled.  Then  they 
glanced  doubtfully  from  one  to  the  other,  anxious 
to  play  yet  unwilling  to  ally  themselves  against 
Beany's  scorn.  Victor  Octavius  turned  around  to 
see  what  was  the  matter. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  play?"  he  asked. 

"Play  yourself,"  snapped  Beany.  This  caused 
more  giggling.  Victor  drew  himself  up  with  dignity. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "You  don't  have  to.  We 
got  enough  without  you." 

He  turned  back  to  inspect  the  road.  Beany 
screwed  up  his  face  into  a  knot  and  stuck  out  his 
tongue  derisively.  With  this  stroke  he  won  the  un 
disputed  leadership  of  the  party.  Sarah  Trumbell 

[124] 


AND  THE  TUB 

nestled  closer  to  him.  Beany  moved  as  far  away 
as  the  upholstery  would  permit,  but  Sarah  was  a 
modern  Juliet.  She  followed  without  hesitation. 

"I  don't  like  him,"  she  whispered,  looking  up  into 
his  face  and  indicating  Victor. 

Beany  did  not  consider  an  answer  necessary.  He 
resumed  his  whistling  and  stared  moodily  at  the 
countryside. 

"I  like  you,"  went  on  Sarah.  Frankness  was  one 
of  her  most  engaging  qualities. 

"Rats,"  he  said  finally,  and  did  not  open  his  mouth 
again  until  they  had  arrived  at  the  park. 

The  rest  of  the  school  drew  up  a  few  minutes 
later.  They  descended  from  the  busses,  howling  and 
shouting.  Beany  sat  down  with  his  back  against  a 
tree  and  watched  their  antics  with  gloomy  indiffer 
ence.  He  was  not  allowed  to  remain  in  obscurity 
for  long.  Gangleshanks  stood  beside  him. 

"Gee  whiz,  you  oughtn't  to  sit  on  th'  ground  like 
that.  You'll  get  all  dirty.  You  don't  catch  Victor 
gettin'  dirty." 

"Shut  up." 

"Where's  your  prize?" 

Beany's  only  answer  was  to  lash  out  with  his  foot. 

"Look  out  what  you're  doin' !"  cried  the  tor- 
[125] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

mentor  jumping  out  of  range.  "Why  don't  you  go 
an'  play  with  Victor  an'  the  other  little  girls?" 

He  rushed  away,  expecting  pursuit.  But  Beany 
allowed  the  insult  to  pass  unchallenged.  His  spirit 
was  broken.  Through  no  fault  of  his  own  he  had 
become  an  obnoxious  object  to  all  desirable  people. 
He  was  beginning  to  be  obnoxious  to  himself.  Waves 
of  self-pity  swept  over  him. 

He  remained  seated,  turning  over  these  gloomy 
thoughts.  The  uproar  of  the  picnic  continued. 
Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  stood  a  short  distance 
away  looking  at  him,  and  whispering.  Unable  to 
stand  it  any  longer  he  walked  towards  them  defiantly. 

"Don't  get  so  funny,"  he  warned. 

"Listen  to  the  prize  scholar,"  chirped  Gangle 
shanks,  backing  towards  a  tree. 

"I'll  scholar  you  if  you  don't  shut  up.     I'll " 

"Boys,  boys!"  It  was  Mr.  Coffin  speaking. 
"Don't  you  hear  Miss  Marcy?" 

They  listened  unwillingly.  Miss  Marcy  had  more 
unwelcome  ideas  than  any  teacher  in  the  Sunday 
School.  She  stood  at  the  head  of  the  table,  the  little 
girls  grouped  behind  her. 

"When  I  blow  this  whistle,"  she  said,  "each  little 
boy  will  choose  a  little  girl  for  his  partner.  He  will 

[126] 


AND  THE  TUB 

then  find  a  place  for  her  to  sit  and  bring  her  luncheon 
to  her." 

At  this  announcement  the  little  boys  chivalrously 
uttered  a  deep  and  audible  groan. 

"Le's  stay  in  the  back,"  whispered  Gangleshanks. 
"Maybe  there  won't  be  enough  girls  to  go  round." 

Miss  Marcy  blew  her  whistle.  The  boys,  after 
a  moment  of  hesitation,  were  overcome  by  the  spirit 
of  competition.  There  was  a  wild  scramble.  The 
picnic  resolved  itself  into  a  kicking,  screaming  mob. 
Gradually  the  males  and  the  females  were  weeded 
out  and  set  aside  in  pairs, 

When  the  dust  of  battle  had  settled  there  was 
nobody  left  but  Sarah  Trumbell.  She  stood  alone 
behind  Miss  Marcy  obviously  on  the  point  of  tears. 
Beany,  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub,  having  buried 
their  own  animosities  in  a  common  cause,  watched 
the  fracas  with  interested  but  aloof  eyes. 

Miss  Marcy  glanced  in  their  direction,  then  seized 
the  neglected  Sarah  with  a  determined  look. 

"Didn't  anybody  choose  you?"  she  asked. 

Sarah  shook  her  head  mournfully. 

"Come  with  me." 

Sarah  followed  with  more  willingness  than  maiden 
modesty  prescribed.  As  they  approached,  the  trio 

[127] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

turned  and  began  to  walk  rapidly  away,  suddenly 
mindful  of  an  important  engagement  in  another 
quarter. 

"James  Fleming." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  name.  Beany 
stopped.  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub,  feeling  that 
the  noose  was  about  to  fall  elsewhere,  turned  and 
took  up  positions  behind  him. 

"James,  choose  Sarah  Trumbell  for  a  partner," 
said  Miss  Marcy  with  an  icy  smile  which  discour 
aged  argument.  "Find  her  a  seat  somewhere  and 
bring  her  something  to  eat."  Then  feeling  that 
this  was  a  bit  bald  she  patted  them  on  the  shoulders 
and  said:  "Two  little  prize  winners." 

"Come."  Beany's  face  was  crimson  with  indig 
nation.  He  stalked  away  followed  by  the  beaming 
Sarah.  Over  his  shoulder  he  saw  Gangleshanks  and 
the  Tub,  their  hands  over  their  mouths,  bent  double 
behind  Miss  Marcy's  back. 

"Sit  down  there,"  commanded  Beany  sternly,  in 
dicating  a  bare  spot  of  earth  at  the  foot  of  a  tree. 
Sarah  still  labored  under  the  conviction  that  she  was 
in  the  presence  of  the  world's  most  famous  humorist. 
She  looked  up  in  his  face  and  laughed,  delighted  at 
his  wit. 

[128] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"I'll  get  your  food,"  he  muttered  between  his 
teeth.  Turning  on  his  heels  he  plunged  into  the 
seething  mass  about  the  table. 

He  emerged,  his  collar  unbuttoned,  but  both  hands 
filled  with  sandwiches.  These  he  half  placed,  half 
dropped,  into  Sarah's  lap.  From  his  pocket  he  pro 
duced  four  hard-boiled  eggs  somewhat  mashed  in 
the  recent  conflict.  From  within  his  blouse  two 
bananas. 

"There  !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  placed  these  articles 
on  the  ground  beside  her.  "I  guess  that  ought  to 
be  enough  for  anybody." 

So  saying  he  turned  and  stalked  away,  never  to 
return. 

"The  two  little  prize  winners,"  mocked  Gangle- 
shanks  from  a  safe  distance. 

'Oh,  shut  up!"  Beany  turned  and  sought  seclu 
sion  among  the  struggling  gourmands  about  the 
table. 

The  afternoon  wore  on,  a  dreary  affair.  Beany 
kept  carefully  away  from  Gangleshanks  and  the 
Tub.  And  the  more  he  held  himself  aloof  the  more 
he  felt  that  he  was  an  outcast.  He  bitterly  resented 
the  system  which  had  forced  this  condition  upon 
him.  Before  the  afternoon  was  over  he  determined 

[129] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

to  show  Mr.  Coffin,  Miss  Marcy  and  the  whole 
school  that  their  judgment  was  founded  upon  sand. 

He  walked  moodily  about  the  park  trying  to 
think  up  some  dark  deed  which  would  brand  him 
as  a  criminal.  The  noise  about  the  tables  subsided, 
then  died  away.  Everyone  had  disappeared  except 
a  few  teachers  who  remained  to  pick  up  the  debris. 
The  noise  of  a  steam  piano  came  to  his  ears.  He 
saw  a  faint  flash  of  color  through  the  trees.  Then 
he  remembered  the  merry-go-round.  Mr.  Coffin 
always  hired  it  for  the  Sunday  School. 

They  were  all  over  there  enjoying  themselves 
without  a  thought  for  him.  They  didn't  want  him. 
If  he  appeared  they  would  laugh. 

Let  them  laugh !  He  drove  his  hands  deep  into 
his  trouser  pockets  and  walked  defiantly  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  music. 

The  merry-go-round  was  in  full  swing.  A  group 
of  boys  and  girls  were  waiting  to  take  their  turn 
when  it  should  stop.  Beany  swaggered  past  them, 
ran  a  few  steps  beside  the  whirling  platform,  and 
jumped  lightly  aboard. 

Disdaining  the  plunging  horses,  he  leaned  care 
lessly  against  a  pole,  occasionally  reaching  down  to 


AND  THE  TUB 

drag  his  foot  through  the  dust.  The  music  stopped. 
Beany  jumped  off  and  into  Miss  Marcy's  arms. 

"James  Fleming,  you  know  better  than  to  jump 
on  and  off  like  that!" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  hurt  myself,"  he  cried. 

"I  don't  want  any  child  to  jump  on  or  off  that 
machine  while  it's  in  motion,"  announced  Miss 
Marcy  in  a  loud  voice.  "If  anybody  disobeys  that 
rule  they  won't  be  allowed  to  ride  again." 

The  merry-go-round  stopped.  New  passengers 
clambered  aboard.  Beany  watched  them  take  their 
places  glumly.  Never,  he  swore  solemnly  to  him 
self,  would  he  be  prevailed  upon  to  attend  such  an 
effeminate  function  again. 

The  music  started.  The  horses  went  whirling 
past  him,  rising  and  falling  like  the  breathing  of 
some  strange  monster.  Beany  watched  them  with  a 
scowl.  Then  taking  a  short  run  he  leaped  aboard 
and  stood  nonchalantly  with  one  arm  crooked  about 
the  post.  No  one  paid  any  attention  to  him.  He 
stood  there  for  a  moment,  then  jumped  off  to  face 
Miss  Marcy  once  more. 

"I  don't  want  to  see  you  get  on  the  merry-go- 
round  again  this  afternoon,"  she  said.  "We'll  see 
if  children  are  going  to  be  allowed  to  disobey  like 

[131] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

that.  Instead  of  being  a  good  example  to  the  school 
you  teach  them  to  do  wrong." 

"I  don'  wanna  be  a  good  example."  Beany  flung 
himself  away.  He  heard  Miss  Marcy  call  after 
him,  but  pretended  not  to  hear.  Above  the  blatant 
tones  of  the  steam  piano  rose  the  sound  of  laughter. 
He  was  torn  by  a  desire  to  run  away  from  it  all, 
and  by  a  contrary  impulse  to  stay  and  throw  mud 
at  the  merry-go-round. 

A  few  feet  away  was  a  stand-pipe  with  a  hose 
attached.  He  walked  over  to  it  and  turning  on  the 
water  applied  his  mouth  to  the  nozzle. 

"Don't  drink  out  of  that  thing!"  exclaimed  a 
voice  behind  him. 

It  was  Victor  Octavius.  He  was  regarding  Beany 
earnestly  through  his  shell-rimmed  glasses. 

"What's  it  to  you?"  Beany  removed  the  nozzle 
and  returned  the  stare  with  venom. 

"It's  full  of  bugs." 

"So're  you,"  replied  Beany  tersely  and  applied  his 
mouth  to  the  nozzle  once  more. 

"Don't  get  fresh." 

"Don't  you  get  fresh." 

"You  think  you're  pretty  smart,  don't  you?" 


AND  THE  TUB 

"If  I  wasn't  smarter  than  you  I  wouldn't  be  very 
smart." 

"Is  that  so?" 

"Yes,  that's  so." 

"It  is,  eh?" 

"Yes  it  is." 

They  stood  glaring  at  one  another.  Beany's 
thumb  slowly  covered  the  end  of  the  hose  and  a 
fine  stream  of  water,  escaping  under  pressure,  struck 
Victor  Octavius  in  the  face. 

"Did  you  mean  to  do  that?" 

"Mean  to  do  what?" 

"Hit  me  with  that  water.  You  know  what  I 
mean." 

"Maybe  I  did  an'  maybe  I  didn't." 

"Well,  you  better  not  do  it  again." 

"Why  not?" 

"  'Cause  you  better  not,  that's  all." 

Another  stream  of  water,  springing  from  under 
Beany's  thumb,  left  a  dark  stain  on  Octavius'  grey 
suit. 

"Cut  that  out." 

"Who  for?" 

"Never  mind.    Just  cut  it  out." 

"Supposin'  I  don't." 

[133] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"I'll  make  you." 

"Supposin'  you  can't." 

"  'S'  all  right.     Cut  it  out." 

For  the  third  time  the  liquid  challenge  came,  clear 
and  unmistakable.  Victor  Octavius  dashed  his  tor 
toise-shell  glasses  to  the  ground  and  closed.  As 
he  did  so  Beany  reached  down  and  turned  on  the 
spigot  as  far  as  it  would  go. 

They  grappled,  the  hose  pressed  between  them. 
A  geyser  of  water  shot  into  the  air.  Back  and  forth 
they  fought,  the  hose  describing  spirals  and  figure- 
eights  against  the  sky.  Then  sweeping  suddenly 
downward  it  played  its  full  force  on  the  revolving 
merry-go-round. 

Effect  followed  cause  instantaneously.  Above  the 
wailing  of  the  steam  piano  rose  the  howls  of  the 
picnickers.  The  merry-go-round  came  to  a  stop. 

They  lost  their  grip  on  the  hose  and  rolled  over 
and  over  on  the  ground  biting,  kicking  and  punching. 
Cries  for  mercy  issued  from  the  bruised  lips  of 
Victor  Octavius.  But  Beany  was  in  no  mood  for 
mercy.  He  continued  to  pound  and  kick  until  a 
heavy  hand  was  laid  on  his  collar  and  he  was  yanked 
violently  to  his  feet.  Mr.  Coffin  glowered  above 
him. 

[134] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"What "  he  began. 

Still  less  was  Beany  interested  in  academic  ques 
tions.  Drawing  back  his  foot  he  kicked  Mr.  Coffin 
with  all  his  strength  on  the  shin-bone.  Mr.  Coffin 
groaned  and  relaxed  his  grip.  Beany  broke  away 
and  plunging  through  the  awe-struck  crowd,  disap 
peared  down  the  road. 

Round  the  first  bend  he  met  Gangleshanks  and 
the  Tub  returning,  heavy  laden,  from  a  soda  foun 
tain  at  the  entrance  to  the  grounds. 

"Gee  whiz,  here  comes  the  little  prize  winner!" 
cried  Gangleshanks  unwisely.  Then,  as  they  took 
in  Beany's  condition,  they  stopped. 

But  Gangleshanks  had  said  enough  to  instill  fresh 
murder  in  Beany's  heart.  The  sounds  of  pursuit 
reached  his  ears. 

"All  right,  prize  that,"  he  shouted.  Stopping 
suddenly  he  planted  his  second  well-aimed  kick  on 
a  human  shin,  accompanied  by  a  blow  on  Gangle 
shanks'  chest  which  sent  him  reeling  and  astonished 
into  the  shrubbery. 

The  Tub  prepared  for  rapid  movement,  but  was 
too  slow.  Like  a  fury  Beany  was  upon  him  with 
lowered  head.  The  Tub  received  the  impact  with 
a  dreadful  grunt  and  sat  down  heavily,  while  Beany 

[135] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

stepped  on  and  over  his  prostrate  body  and  con 
tinued  his  flight.  He  could  hear  the  sound  of  run 
ning  feet  close  behind  him. 

While  these  revolutionary  events  were  taking 
place  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fleming  and  their  guests  sped 
comfortably  over  the  concrete  road  towards  Lone- 
willow  Park.  Mrs.  Fleming  was  filled  with  com 
placency  over  the  events  of  the  day.  It  was  pleasant 
to  be  able  to  point  out  some  concrete  accomplish 
ment  of  her  son's  on  the  first  day  of  her  sister's 
visit.  It  conveyed  the  impression  that  such  occur 
rences  were  frequent. 

"This  is  the  park  where  they  have  the  picnic," 
said  Mr.  Fleming,  turning  off  the  main  road. 

"I  just  can't  wait  to  see  Jimmy — or  Beany  rather. 
I  suppose  I  must  get  used  to  calling  him  Beany. 
He  must  be  perfectly  adorable  from  what  you  say. 
Of  course  I  admire  you  so  for  having  brought  him 
up  the  way  you  have.  So  many  of  these  modern 
children  are  quite  irresponsible  and  undisciplined. 
It's  a  relief  to  see  one  with  a  few  of  the  old  ideals." 

Thus  chattered  Mrs.  Manning.  They  swung 
sharply  round  a  curve.  There  was  a  squeal  of 
brakes.  The  car  stopped  with  a  jolt.  A  small  form 


AND  THE  TUB 

had  come  bursting  round  the  corner  and  ran  squarely 
into  the  fender.  It  glared  at  them  over  the  radiator- 
cap  with  startled,  horrified  eyes.  Mrs.  Fleming  gave 
a  little  cry. 

"Beany!" 

A  different  Beany,  however,  from  the  one  whose 
doubtful  triumph  she  had  witnessed  that  morning. 
His  clothes  were  soaked.  He  was  splashed  with 
mud  from  head  to  foot.  From  his  nose  ran  a  trickle 
of  blood  which  had  smeared  his  face  and  collar. 

Then,  round  the  corner,  came  Mr.  Coffin  followed 
by  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub.  The  remainder  of 
the  delighted  Sunday  School  trailed  behind. 

As  he  stood  looking  over  the  hood  of  the  auto 
mobile  into  his  father's  eyes  Beany  knew  that  the 
game  was  up.  But  at  this  dreadful  moment  there 
came  to  him  one  fortifying  thought  which  caused 
him  to  meet  his  doom  with  head  high  and  lips  firm. 
Never  again  could  anybody  call  him  a  sis. 


[137] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD 

It  was  a  blistering  June  afternoon.  The  street 
was  deserted.  The  world  had  crawled  into  the 
shade  momentarily  to  take  refuge  from  the  sun. 
Beany  and  Gangleshanks  turned  listlessly  in  at  the 
Tub's  driveway.  They  had  both  indulged  in  three 
consecutive  ice  cream  sodas  at  Mrs.  McGruder's 
and  felt  rather  depressed  in  consequence. 

It  was  also  the  first  day  of  summer  vacation  and 
as  yet  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  had  happened. 
Both  believed  it  to  be  their  duty  to  fill  every  moment 
of  liberty  with  action.  To  do  nothing  was  to  admit 
that  school  had  a  definite  place  in  their  lives. 

In  the  rear  of  the  yard,  almost  concealed  from 
view  by  a  large  bush,  stood  a  tent.  Underneath 
its  shelter  reclined  Alexander  Mayo  Hemingway. 
Beads  of  perspiration  rolled  unhindered  down  his 
chubby  face.  A  thick  sporting  goods  catalogue  lay 
open  at  his  elbow.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  crawled 

[138] 


AND  THE  TUB 

into  the  tent  and  lay  down  on  their  stomachs  beside 
him. 

This  tent  had  been  presented  to  the  Tub  on  the 
occasion  of  his  eleventh  birthday  by  his  father.  The 
latter  planned  to  borrow  it  for  a  fishing  trip  later 
in  the  season  and  in  this  way  to  reduce  the  high 
cost  of  living  by  one  purchase.  Beany  and  Gangle- 
shanks  had  each  assumed  part  ownership  in  the  gift 
as  a  matter  of  course.  Before  they  had  finished 
putting  it  up  they  referred  to  it  as  "our  tent."  In 
deed,  as  time  went  on,  the  Tub's  interest  became 
more  and  more  problematical.  They  had  even  con 
sidered  removing  it  from  the  Hemingway  yard  to 
some  more  convenient  place. 

The  tent  had  proved  a  lifesaver  by  helping  to 
pass  the  last  terrible  week  T)efore  school  closed. 
Around  it  Beany  had  invented  a  game  known  as 
"Indians,"  in  which  the  Tub  impersonated  a  lonely 
white  trapper  while  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  took 
the  part  of  savage  aborigines. 

This  game  had  for  its  object  the  extermination 
of  trappers,  with  the  result  that  the  Hemingway 
laundress  had  already  given  notice. 

"Le's  play  Indian,"  suggested  Beany,  plucking  a 
good  chewing  blade  of  grass.  He  was  heartily  sick 

[139] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

of  the  game  after  a  week  of  repetition  but  there 
appeared  to  be  nothing  better  to  do. 

"No,"  said  the  Tub  unexpectedly,  "I  don'  wan'a." 
Beany  and  Gangleshanks  looked  at  him  with  dis 
approval.  They  felt  that  this  savored  of  radicalism. 

"I  wan'a  look  at  this  bu-bu-bu-book." 

They  peered  curiously  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
catalogue.  "Where'd  you  get  that?" 

"Came  with  the  tent."  The  Tub  continued  to  turn 
the  pages.  The  book  contained  numerous  cuts  of 
those  collapsible  conveniences  which  make  life  in 
the  woods  a  perilous  adventure.  There  were  also 
fishing  poles,  guns,  cooking  utensils,  tents,  sleeping 
bags  and  a  hundred  other  articles  suggestive  of  a 
more  interesting  life  than  their  present  one. 

They  finished  the  catalogue,  admired  the  lonely 
moose  which  gazed  at  them  from  the  cover,  then 
succumbed  to  the  heat,  more  discontented  than  be 
fore.  Beany  watched  the  shadow  of  a  fly  crawling 
across  the  outside  of  the  tent.  Life  bored  him.  He 
felt  this  to  be  a  very  bad  beginning  to  a  summer 
vacation. 

At  that  moment  the  sound  of  gravel  being 
crunched  under  wheels  came  to  their  ears.  Beany, 
on  his  hands  and  knees,  peered  around  the  bush. 

[140] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"It's  Mr.  Javers,"  he  said,  standing  up.  "Le's 
talk  to  him." 

Since  their  earliest  recollections  Mr.  Javers  had 
dispensed  fresh  butter  and  eggs  to  Walnut  street. 
He  rode  about  in  a  yellow  truck  on  the  side  of  which 
was  painted  in  foot-high  letters,  "Javers'  Model 
Farm."  Although  none  had  ever  seen  the  farm 
there  was  a  general  impression,  created  no  doubt  by 
Mr.  Javers'  prices,  that  it  was  an  exceptionally 
model  affair. 

Among  other  qualities  Mr.  Javers  was  deaf. 
Beany  had  discovered  this  one  afternoon  upon  hear 
ing  Hannah  call  him  "a  red-faced  old  fool";  a  re 
mark  caused  by  his  having  left  a  good  portion  of 
the  Model  Farm  on  her  kitchen  floor.  Instead  of 
defending  himself  he  had  merely  beamed  and  re 
plied,  "Yes,  indeed." 

After  several  cautious  experiments  Beany  estab 
lished  the  fact  that  Mr.  Javers  could  be  counted 
upon  to  make  the  same  reply  to  any  remark  what 
soever.  Once  assured  of  this  nothing  gave  them 
keener  pleasure  than  to  follow  him  about,  inquiring 
gravely  if  he  were  not  a  funny-looking  old  monkey, 
or  if  it  were  true  that  his  brains  consisted  principally 
of  cheese.  To  all  their  questions  Mr.  Javers  would 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

smile  agreeably  and  reply,  "Yes,  indeed."  Where 
upon  they  would  retire  to  roll  on  the  grass  with 
uncontrollable  laughter. 

Mr.  Javers  had  left  a  crock  of  butter  and  a  carton 
of  eggs  at  the  back  door  and  was  about  to  depart 
when  the  boys  approached  him. 

"Gooday,"  he  remarked  pleasantly. 

"Hello,  Mr.  Shavers.  How're  all  th'  li'le 
shavers?"  inquired  Beany  politely. 

At  this  burst  of  wit  the  Tub  was  forced  to  retire 
behind  the  truck  where  he  made  a  great  show  of 
stuffing  a  veteran  handkerchief,  into  his  mouth. 

"Pretty  cold  day,  isn't  it?"  asked  Gangleshanks. 

"Yes,  indeed."  Mr.  Javers  removed  his  old  straw 
hat  to  wipe  the  perspiration  from  his  crimson  fore 
head.  At  this  the  three  jokers,  overcome  by  their 
own  cleverness,  took  to  their  heels  and  disappeared 
around  the  back  porch.  Mr.  Javers,  after  looking 
about  to  see  that  there  were  no  bricks  under  the 
wheels  of  his  truck  or  that  it  was  not  tied  to  a 
clothes  pole,  shook  his  head  with  a  puzzled  air  and 
drove  away. 

Although  the  resulting  hilarity  was  as  noisy  as 
usual  Beany  did  not  feel  in  the  mood  for  this  sort 
of  thing.  When  Mr.  Javers  had  gone  and  there 

[142] 


AND  THE  TUB 

was  no  longer  any  chance  of  being  caught  by  anyone, 
he  subsided  suddenly.  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub, 
after  several  half-hearted  attempts  to  revive  interest, 
also  lapsed  into  silence.  They  lay  on  the  grass  where 
they  had  thrown  themselves,  watching  the  shadow 
of  the  house  creep  across  the  lawn.  The  germ  of 
an  idea  had  entered  Beany's  mind. 

"I  know  what  le's  do,"  he  said,  sitting  up.  "Le's 
go  camping." 

They  looked  at  him  curiously,  expecting  him  to 
propose  some  new  game.  "Wha'  d'ya  mean?"  asked 
Gangleshanks  finally. 

"Take  our  tent  an'  go  out  in  th'  woods  some- 
wheres." 

"Yaw,  who  do  you  s'pose  is  goin'  t'  let  you  do 
that?" 

"Why  not?    I  guess  I  c'n  go  campin'  if  I  want." 

"Yu-yu-yes,  you  can." 

"Sure  we  can."  Gangleshanks  was  irritated  by 
the  Tub's  acknowledgment  of  superior  authority. 
"Patch  Parsons  went  last  summer.  He  isn't  any 
older  than  us  fellas.  I  guess  if  he  can  go  we  can." 

"I  know  I  can  go,"  said  Beany  with  an  easy  air. 
"It's  just  up  to  you  fellas." 

[H3] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"I  c'n  go  all  right.  All  I  got  to  do's  ask  father. 
He'll  le'me." 

"Bu-bu-bu-bet  you  can't,"  said  the  Tub  stubbornly. 

"Bet  we  can,"  replied  Beany  hotly.  "Golly  day, 
wha'd  they  give  us  the  tent  for  if  they  didn't  expect 
us  t'  use  it.  I  guess  I  wouldn't  be  tied  to  an  apron 
string  the  way  you  are,  Tub.  Wha'  do  you  say, 
Gangleshanks?" 

"Alexander!"  It  was  Mrs.  Hemingway's  voice 
calling  from  the  back  porch. 

"Run  to  your  mama,  li'le  boy,"  said  Beany,  as 
suming  the  careless  attitude  of  a  free  lance. 

"Yes,  mother."  The  Tub  wriggled  round  so  that 
he  could  see  the  speaker. 

"Is  James  Fleming  there?" 

"Yes'm."    Beany  sat  up  slowly. 

"James,  your  mother  just  called  up.  She  wants 
you  to  come  right  home  and  get  ready  for  supper." 

"Well,  Beany,"  said  Mr.  Fleming,  glancing  across 
the  table  at  his  son.  "Another  year  of  school  ended, 
eh?" 

"Yes,  sir."  Beany  used  the  respectful  tone  which 
presaged  a  request. 

"Well,  you  haven't  done  so  badly  this  year,"  said 
[144] 


AND  THE  TUB 

Mr.  Fleming  tolerantly.  He  always  talked  like  this 
at  the  end  of  a  school  term.  It  might  have  em 
barrassed  him  to  explain  just  what  he  referred  to. 
Perhaps  he  meant  to  express  relief  that  Beany  had 
not  been  expelled  or  had  not  accidentally  killed  any 
one.  "I  wish  you  weren't  going  to  be  hanging 
around  here  all  summer,  though."  He  continued  to 
look  thoughtfully  at  his  son.  "I  think  another  year 
I'll  send  you  to  one  of  these  boys'  camps." 

"That's  what  I  ought  to  do."  Beany  lost  no  time 
putting  his  foot  in  the  door  of  opportunity.  "This 
town's  an  awful  place  for  a  fella  t'  hang  around 
in.  He  ought  t'  be  out  somewheres  gettin'  hard." 

Mr.  Fleming  had  an  uneasy  feeling  that  he  was 
about  to  be  trapped.  "You're  right,"  he  agreed  in 
cautiously.  "There's  nothing  like  a  primitive  out- 
of-door  life  for  a  boy — or  a  man  either  for  that 
matter." 

"Father,  me  an'  Gangleshanks  an'  th'  Tub  want 
to  go  campin'."  Beany  took .  a  long  breath  and 
hurried  on  as  he  saw  his  father's  mouth  open  in 
protest.  "You  see  th'  Tub's  father  is  crazy  about 
campin'  an'  all  that  kind  o'  thing.  An'  he's  bought 
th'  Tub  a  tent.  An'  we  got  everythin'  we  need. 
An'  if  we  stay  in  town  all  th'  time  we're  goin'  t'  get 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

weaker  an'  weaker  an'  there's  no  tellin'  what'll  hap 
pen  to  us." 

"Nonsense !"  snorted  Mr.  Fleming,  as  Beany 
paused  to  take  in  a  fresh  supply  of  air.  "Nonsense! 
You  three  kids  go  off  camping  by  yourselves!  I 
wouldn't  hear  of  it.  I  bet  Hemingway  and  Brace- 
worth  won't  let  their  boys  go  on  any  such  wild  goose 
chase  as  that  either." 

"Oh,  but  they  will,  father.  They're  crazy  t'  have 
'em  go."  Beany  was  not  a  liar.  He  was  an  enthu 
siast.  "They're  crazy  t'  have  'em  go  an'  they  want 
me  t'  go  with  'em.  Mr.  Hemingway's  so  crazy  t' 
have  the  Tub  go  he's  given  us  a  tent.  An'  we  got 
everything  else  we  need.  An'  if  we  stay  in  town " 

"But  who'd  do  your  cooking?"  asked  Mr.  Flem 
ing,  interrupting  the  argument  as  it  came  round  the 
second  time.  "And  who'd  take  care  of  you  if  you 
got  sick?  Why,  it's  perfect  nonsense  I  tell  you." 

"Golly  day,  father,  don't  you  think  we  know  how 
to  do  anything?  We  can  cook  as  well  as  anybody 
an'  who's  goin'  t'  get  sick?  The  minute  a  fella 
goes  away  everybody  thinks  he's  goin'  t'  die  right 
away.  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  we  got  sick  stayin' 
around  here,  though.  That's  what  makes  a  fella 
sick.  Hangin'  round  here.  You  said  so  yourself." 

[146] 


AND  THE  TUB 

Beany  turned  to  his  mother  who  had  carefully 
kept  out  of  the  argument.  "Why  couldn't  we, 
mother?  Just  go  campin'  for  a  few  days?  It 
wouldn't  hurt  us.  Golly  day." 

"Where  were  you  going  to  camp,  Beany?"  There 
was  an  amused  expression  in  Mrs.  Fleming's  eyes, 
but  her  tone  was  serious. 

"Why  just  out  in  the  country,  mother.  You  don't 
have  to  go  up  to  th'  North  Pole  t'  go  campin',  you 
know.  We'd  just  take  our  bikes  and  ride  out  in  th' 
country  'til  we  found  a  good  place.  Can't  we, 
mother?" 

"I  don't  know,  Beany.  It  depends  on  what  your 
father  says."  Mrs.  Fleming  had  learned  to  be  non 
committal.  Beany,  however,  long  practiced  in  read 
ing  tones  and  expressions,  knew  that  he  had  gained 
an  ally.  Immediately  after  the  meal  he  met  Gangle- 
shanks  outside. 

"Everythin's  all  right,"  he  said,  with  sublime  con 
fidence.  r'How  about  you?" 

"Fine,"  replied  Gangleshanks,  who  had  gone 
through  the  same  kind  of  a  battle  a  few  moments 
before  and  was  no  more  sure  of  the  outcome  than 
Beany.  "Now  all  we  got  t'  do  is  get  our  stuff  to 
gether." 

[147] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

At  that  very  moment  Mrs.  Fleming  was  pleading 
her  son's  cause. 

"All  right,"  said  Mr.  Fleming,  finally,  in  a  mar 
tyred  voice.  "All  right.  Let  the  boy  go.  He's 
your  son,  I  suppose,  just  as  much  as  mine.  If  you 
don't  care  what  becomes  of  him  I  don't  see  why  I 
should.  My  summer  is  spoiled,  but  that  doesn't 
matter.  I  assure  you  I  shan't  sleep  a  wink  while 
he's  gone.  If  that  doesn't  count  for  anything  let  the 
boy  go." 

Mrs.  Fleming,  who  knew  her  husband  better  than 
he  knew  himself,  told  Beany  that  night  that  it  was 
all  fixed  up. 


[148] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

INTO  THE   HEART  OF  THE   UNKNOWN 

Beany  stood  in  the  middle  of  his  bedroom  floor 
surrounded  by  a  strange  variety  of  objects. 

"Come  on,"  he  said  to  Gangleshanks,  who  was 
lying  on  the  bed.  "Le's  get  this  stuff  checked  up." 
Gangleshanks  wet  the  business  end  of  a  pencil  stub 
and  held  it  poised  over  a  piece  of  paper  which  lay 
beside  him  on  the  bed.  "One  axe."  Beany  held  up 
a  small  hatchet  appropriated  from  the  Tub's  tool- 
chest.  "One  waterproof  matchsafe." 

"We  ought  to  have  more'n  one,"  interrupted 
Gangleshanks.  "If  we  ever  lost  that  an'  got  our 
matches  wet  we'd  be  up  against  it,  I  tell  you." 

"Oh,  we  could  manage." 

"How  so,  I'd  like  to  know?  How're  you  goin' 
to  light  a  fire  if  your  matches  is  all  wet?" 

"I  guess  you  never  heard  o'  makin'  a  fire  with 
two  sticks?" 

"Sure  I  have.     You  can't  do  it  though." 

"Can  too." 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Le's  see  you." 

"I  s'pose  you'd  want  me  to  light  a  fire  right  here 
in  th'  house.  That's  about  all  th'  sense  you  got. 
Golly  day!  I  guess " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  his  mother. 
"Here's  a  little  bottle  of  aspirin  in  case  anyone 
catches  cold,"  she  said,  placing  a  small  package 
on  the  table. 

"Oh,  mother!"  Beany  had  caught  sight  of 
Gangleshanks  who,  with  his  hand  over  his  mouth, 
was  going  through  the  pantomime  of  hearty  laugh 
ter  behind  that  lady's  back.  "Golly  day,  you'd 
think  we  were  all  goin'  out  to  get  killed  somewheres 
instead  of  just  goin'  campin'.  All  you  think  of  is 
somebody  gettin'  sick  or  cuttin'  off  his  head  or  break- 
in'  his  neck.  Nothin's  goin'  t'  happen  to  us,  mother." 

Mrs.  Fleming  looked  unconvinced.  "I  don't 
know,"  she  said.  "If  I  told  your  father  what  I 
really  think  he'd  never  let  you  go.  What  does  your 
mother  think  of  all  this,  Gangleshanks?" 

"Oh,  she  thinks  it's  fine,"  replied  Gangleshanks, 
who  was  only  allowed  to  go  because  it  was  under 
stood  that  the  Flemings  and  Hemingways  endorsed 
the  scheme  so  heartily. 

"Well,  I  shall  be  worried  to  death  till  you  come 
[150] 


AND  THE  TUB 

back.  You  see,  if  anything  happened  I  would  have 
to  take  all  the  blame.  You  must  promise  to  be 
careful." 

"Of  course  we  will,  mother.  Golly  day,  there 
isn't  anything  to  be  careful  about,  though.  There's 
more  danger  right  here  home,  like  fallin'  down  stairs 
or  gettin'  run  over." 

uOr  catchin'  measles  an'  different  diseases,"  sug 
gested  Gangleshanks  politely,  feeling  that  Beany 
should  have  some  support. 

Mrs.  Fleming  left  them.  "Golly  day!"  exclaimed 
Beany  in  a  relieved  voice  as  the  door  shut  behind 
her.  "Le's  go  ahead  or  we'll  never  get  finished. 
One  compass." 

"Everybody  ought  t'  have  a  compass,"  observed 
Gangleshanks  thoughtfully.  "How'd  you  find  your 
way  if  you  was  lost  without  a  compass?" 

"The  book  tells  how.  You  just  take  your  watch 
an'  point  it  at  the  sun  someway  an'  there's  a  way 
of  tellin'  from  there  which  is  north." 

"You  don't  want  t'  forget  t'  take  that  book." 

"I  guess  not.  It  'ud  be  all  up  with  us  if  we  for 
got  this  ol'  book."  From  a  small  bookcase  he  took 
a  volume  entitled  "The  Camper's  Guide,"  and 
placed  it  on  the  bed  beside  Gangleshanks. 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Wha'd  you  do  with  the  Red  Cross  outfit?"  asked 
Gangleshanks.  "You  haven't  forgot  that,  have 
you?" 

"You  bet  not."  Beany  pulled  a  tin  box  from 
under  the  bed.  "I  got  it  under  here  special  so's  I 
wouldn't  forget  it." 

"I  guess  if  anybody  gets  hurt  we'll  be  glad  we 
had  that  along.  You  can't  tell  what  a  fella  might 
do  out  in  th'  woods  like  that.  He  might  break  his 
leg  or  his  arm  or  chop  off  his  foot  as  easy  as  any 
thing." 

"I  should  say  he  could.  You  wouldn't  catch  me 
goin'  into  th'  woods  without  my  Red  Cross  outfit." 
Beany  placed  the  tin  box  beside  "The  Camper's 
Guide"  and  began  to  examine  its  contents. 

"Think  you  got  enough  bandages?"  asked 
Gangleshanks,  sitting  up  to  oversee  this  operation. 
"If  a  fella  broke  his  leg  or  anything  it  'ud  take  an 
awful  lot  o'  bandages." 

"That  shows  all  you  know  about  it.  You  don't 
put  on  bandages  when  a  fella  breaks  his  leg.  You 
put  a  splinter  in  it.  It's  all  in  the  book."  He  closed 
the  medical  supplies  to  prevent  further  argument. 
"Now  there's  nothin'  left  to  do  but  get  these  bags 
filled  with  food." 


AND  THE  TUB 

"The  Camper's  Guide"  was  very  definite  on  the 
subject  of  food.  It  prescribed  for  a  party  of  four, 
flour,  cornmeal,  rice,  cornstarch,  coffee,  raisins  and 
baking  powder  in  scientifically  calculated  amounts. 
Gangleshanks  read  the  list  dubiously. 

"That  ol'  list  may  be  all  right,  but  I  wish  there 
was  somethin'  a  fella  could  eat  if  he  got  hungry." 

"Mother's  puttin'  in  some  sardines  an'  stuff," 
admitted  Beany.  Gangleshanks  looked  relieved. 

They  met  in  front  of  Beany's  house  the  following 
morning  after  numerous  delays.  Just  outside  the 
gate  stood  an  express  wagon  piled  high  with  their 
camping  outfit.  Three  lengths  of  clothesline  were 
fastened  to  the  front.  The  loose  ends  were  to 
be  tied  to  their  bicycles.  This  was  Beany's  inven 
tion  and  he  was  not  modest  in  his  opinion  of  it. 

Mrs.  Fleming  was  on  hand  to  see  them  off.  The 
various  other  parents  had  been  dissuaded  from  ob 
taining  what  they  considered  a  last  earthly  glimpse 
of  their  sons. 

"Are  you  sure  you  have  everything  now?"  she 
asked  for  the  fortieth  time. 

"Oh,  mother!  Of  course  we  have.  Golly  day, 
if  we  don't  get  goin'  we'll  never  get  started.  Come 
on,  Tub.  Hitch  your  bike  on.  Hurry  up,  can't 

[1531 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

you,  Gangleshanks."  He  had  a  sinking  feeling  that 
he  was  about  to  receive  some  public  advice  on  the 
subject  of  hygiene  and  hoped,  by  injecting  enough 
confusion  into  the  start,  to  divert  his  mother's 
thoughts.  No  such  luck,  however. 

"Now,  Beany,"  she  said.  "Do  remember  one 
thing.  If  you  get  your  feet  wet  change  your  shoes 
and  stockings  right  away  and  rub  your  feet  with 
a  dry  towel." 

"Oh,  mother !"  He  gave  her  an  entreating  glance 
which  she  analyzed  as  homesickness. 

"I  wish  you  weren't  going,"  she  said,  attempting 
to  embrace  his  wriggling  body.  "Do  be  careful, 
won't  you?  And  don't  fool  around  with  axes.  And 
if  it  gets  cold  at  night  I  put  in  a  suit  of  heavy  under 
wear  and " 

"Good-by,  mother!"  cried  the  boy  Boone  in  des 
peration.  "Come  on,  you  fellas.  Golly  day,  we'll 
never  get  anywhere  if  we  don't  get  goin'." 

They  made  one  or  two  false  starts  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  three  bicycles  refused  to  reach  the  end 
of  the  tow  ropes  at  the  same  moment.  Then  they 
were  off,  the  express  wagon  rattling  and  slewing 
along  the  pavement  behind  them.  Mrs.  Fleming 
watched  them  disappear  with  an  anxious  face. 

[154] 


AND  THE  TUB 

The  wheels  of  their  bicycles  splashed  through  a 
small  puddle  left  by  a  shower  of  the  previous  night. 
"Gee  whizz,  I  hope  you  didn't  get  your  feet  wet," 
exclaimed  Gangleshanks  with  a  great  show  of  con 
cern. 

"Oh,  shut  up." 

"Don't  you  think  you  bu-bu-bu-better  change  your 
shoes?"  asked  the  Tub.  Beany  looked  at  him  with 
surprise.  He  began  to  fear  that  it  had  been  a  mis 
take  to  let  him  come  on  this  party.  He  was  already 
beginning  to  act  with  a  freshness  which  might  have 
been  expected. 

"You  better  shut  up,"  he  warned,  "or  you'll  wish 
you  was  dead  when  we  stop." 

The  Tub's  flushed  face  indicated  that  he  might 
have  such  a  desire  long  before  that  time.  "Lu-lu- 
lord,  this  thing's  heavy,"  he  complained. 

Gangleshanks  agreed.  "Course  it  is.  It's  full  or 
Beany's  underclothes." 

"I'll  underclothes  you."  They  continued  to  pedal 
grimly  ahead  for  at  least  ten  minutes. 

"Where  in  Sam  Hill  are  we  goin'  ?"  asked  Gangle 
shanks  finally. 

The  answer  was  vague.  "Just  out  in  th'  country." 
Beany  wished  he  had  not  been  so  mysterious  about 

[155] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

their  destination.  "Just  keep  on  goin'  'til  it  gets 
wild."  They  relapsed  into  silence  once  more. 

At  last  the  houses  grew  smaller,  the  vacant  lots 
more  numerous  and  the  pavement  more  bumpy. 
Then  the  asphalt  ended  and  they  found  themselves 
on  a  macadam  road  considerably  in  need  of  repair. 
A  large  hole  loomed  up  in  front  of  them.  Beany 
swung  to  the  left,  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  to  the 
right.  Torn  by  conflicting  emotions  the  express 
wagon  stopped  abruptly. 

"Gee  whizz,  what're  you  trying  t'  do?"  asked 
Gangleshanks,  hopping  on  one  foot.  ''Break  a  fella's 
neck?" 

"It's  all  right  about  my  neck  of  course.  As  long's 
your  neck's  all  right  I  c'n  ride  into  the  hole  an'  break 
mine.  That's  all  right."  They  prepared  to  get 
under  way  once  more.  All  this  manual  labor  was 
beginning  to  pall  on  the  Tub. 

"Gu-gu-gu-gosh,  it's  pretty  wild  around  here'' 
he  remarked  suggestively,  looking  about  at  the  cul 
tivated  fields  which  lined  the  road  on  both  sides. 
Beany  gazed  at  him  disdainfully. 

"Wild !"  he  exclaimed.  "Wild !  Why,  you  don't 
know  what  wild  is.  Why,  before  we  get  through 

[156] 


AND  THE  TUB 

it'll  be  so  wild  you  won't  see  a  man  f'r  days  an* 
days." 

"Where's  that?"  asked  the  Tub. 

"You'll  see  when  you  get  there." 

Gangleshanks  said  nothing.  Beany,  fearing  that 
he  might  be  about  to  side  with  the  Tub,  fired  the 
surest  shot  in  his  locker.  "The  Tub  thinks  this  is 
wild,"  he  sneered. 

"Gee  whizz,  he  don't  know  what  wild  is."  Gangle 
shanks  was  instantly  converted.  "We'll  show  him 
before  we  get  through,  eh  Beans?" 

"You  bet,"  agreed  the  Beans  cheerfully.  They 
started  off  once  more. 

The  country  through  which  they  were  passing 
had  undoubtedly  been  wild  at  one  time.  This,  how 
ever,  was  a  hundred  years  or  more  before  Beany 
decided  to  plunge  into  its  fastnesses.  At  present 
it  rolled  away  in  cultivated  smugness  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  see.  Here  and  there  small  patches  of 
timber  had  been  left  standing.  As  a  camping 
ground,  however,  it  compared  unfavorably  with 
Central  Park,  New  York. 

They  reached  the  foot  of  a  long  grade  and  slowed 
up.  They  stood  on  the  pedals.  Gravity  won,  and 
they  came  to  a  stop. 

[157] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Gee  whizz,  it's  hot."  Gangleshanks  dismounted 
and  wiped  his  face  with  his  sleeve.  "Where  is  this 
darn  ol'  place  o'  yours,  Beany?" 

"  'Tain't  my  darn  ol'  place.  It's  yours  as  much 
as  'tis  mine." 

"Well,  lu-lu-lu-le's  get  there  pretty  soon."  The 
Tub  was  rapidly  losing  weight. 

"Get  where?"  cried  Beany,  exasperated.  "You 
all  look  at  me  an'  say  'there'  as  if  I  knew  where 
'there'  was.  Golly  day,  I  don'  know  where  'there' 
is  any  more  than  you."  He  was  beginning  to  suffer 
the  fate  of  all  promoters  who  never  receive  any 
credit  for  an  idea  until  it  promises  to  be  a  failure. 

"You  were  doin'  all  th'  talkin'.  Gee  whizz,  you 
talk  more  about  things  you  don't  know  anything 
about  than  any  fella  I  ever  saw." 

"I  never  talked  about  it." 

"You  did  so.  Just  a  li'le  while  ago  you  were 
tellin'  about  all  th'  wild  places  you  knew." 

"Well,  if  you'd  only  keep  goin'  instead  o'  standin' 
here  chewin'  all  day  we  might  get  there." 

They  toiled  up  the  dusty  hill.  By  the  time  they 
reached  the  top  no  conservative  insurance  company 
would  have  guaranteed  Beany's  life.  Then,  as  they 
saw  the  grade  sloping  away  before  them  in  a  long 

[158] 


AND  THE  TUB 

descent  of  almost  a  mile,  they  took  heart  once  more. 

Mounting,  they  started  to  coast.  For  the  first 
time  the  expedition  slipped  smoothly  along  without 
exertion.  The  express  wagon,  however,  with  its 
heavy  load,  started  to  overtake  them. 

"We  got  t'  go  faster,"  shouted  Beany,  looking 
over  his  shoulder.  They  began  to  pedal.  Faster 
and  faster  they  flew  until  the  express  wagon  was 
cavorting  behind  them  like  a  young  lamb.  A  knife 
popped  out  unnoticed.  A  can  joined  it.  A  wake 
of  small  objects  sprang  up  in  their  rear.  Then,  to 
their  dismay,  a  sign  loomed  up  before  them.  "DE 
TOUR  ROAD  CLOSED."  This  was  confirmed 
by  two  crossed  planks  barring  the  main  road. 

Beany  tried  to  make  the  turn.  Gangleshanks  kept 
on  straight  ahead.  The  Tub,  who  was  in  the  mid 
dle,  suffered  the  consequences.  When  his  two  com 
panions  picked  themselves  out  of  opposite  ditches 
and  discovered  to  their  surprise  that  there  were  no 
broken  bones  he  was  sitting  in  the  road  whimpering 
softly.  His  face  was  scratched,  his  clothes  were  torn 
and  he  was  even  dirtier  than  before.  The  express 
wagon  rested  upon  his  lap. 

"Golly  day,  don't  be  a  darn  baby  about  it."  Hav 
ing  escaped  scot-free  himself,  Beany  was  inclined  to 

[159] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

use  the  affair  as  a  demonstration  of  his  indifference 
to  danger. 

"No,"  agreed  the  equally  fortunate  Gangleshanks. 
"You  got  to  take  a  few  knocks  when  you're  out 
campin'  like  this." 

The  Tub  stated  very  distinctly  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  go  out  camping. 

"What's  the  sense  in  sayin'  you  don't  want  t'  go 
out  campin'  when  you're  out.  You're  campin'  now, 
so  it's  no  good  not  to  wan'a." 

This  logic  failed  to  appeal  to  the  Tub.  "I  wan'a 
go  home." 

"Well,  you  can't  go  home  'cause  your  bike's 
busted,"  said  Beany  with  finality.  "Golly  day,  I 
never  saw  such  a  kid." 

The  Tub  ceased  to  whine  and  examined  his  wheel. 
The  handlebars  looked  like  the  horns  of  a  Rocky 
Mountain  sheep.  At  the  sight  he  set  up  a  howl. 

"Look  here,"  said  Beany,  unable  to  bear  this  any 
longer.  "If  you  don't  quit  actin'  like  a  two-year- 
ol'  kid  we'll  lay  you  right  down  in  the  road  an'  make 
you  wish  you  was  dead." 

The  Tub  opened  one  eye  far  enough  to  make  sure 
that  this  threat  was  genuine,  whereupon  he  subsided 
into  sullen  silence. 

[160] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BIG  GAME 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks  looked  about.  They 
had  almost  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Just  below 
the  road  passed  through  a  wood.  The  conforma 
tion  of  the  ground  made  it  impossible  to  tell  how 
large  an  area  this  covered.  On  their  left  was  a 
field  of  uncut  hay,  bordered  near  the  edge  of  the 
woods  by  a  small  stream. 

"Golly  day!"  exclaimed  Beany  admiringly.  "This 
is  a  wild  place." 

"You  bet  it  is."  Gangleshanks  would  have  pro 
nounced  Walnut  street  wild  rather  than  drag  the 
express  wagon  another  foot.  "It's  lucky  we  fell  off 
just  where  we  did." 

The  Tub  advanced  some  doubts  on  this  last  point, 
but  was  ignored.  They  lifted  the  remains  of  the 
camping  outfit  over  the  fence  and  piled  them  near 
the  stream.  The  bicycles  were  leaned  against  the 
fence  inside  the  field.  The  Tub's  bicycle  was  the 

[161] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

pride  of  his  heart  and  he  now  proceeded  to  describe 
his  sense  of  loss  in  great  detail. 

"Golly  day,  who  cares  about  your  ol'  wheel,"  said 
Gangleshanks  finally.  The  Tub's  troubles  were  get 
ting  on  his  nerves.  "Le's  get  this  tent  up." 

While  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  struggled  with 
the  tent  the  Tub  rummaged  among  their  goods.  He 
passed  over  the  bags  containing  the  flour,  rice  and 
cornmeal,  finally  emerging  with  a  loaf  of  bread  and 
several  cans  of  sardines.  "Le's  eat,"  he  suggested 
hopefully. 

Beany  looked  at  him  with  pity.  "Eat!"  he  ex 
claimed.  "Eat!  You're  a  fine  camper  you  are. 
Why  you  haven't  even  got  your  fire  goin'  yet." 

"Wha-wha-what  do  you  wan'  a  fire  for?"  The 
question  was  excusable,  for  there  was  nothing  which 
they  knew  how  to  cook  and  the  sun  was  blistering 
the  backs  of  their  necks. 

"Golly  day,  I  guess  you  never  been  campin'  be 
fore." 

"Neither've  you." 

Beany  waived  this  remark  as  unworthy  of  answer. 
At  this  moment  Gangleshanks  crawled  out  from 
under  the  tent.  "The  Tub  wants  to  eat  before  we 
get  a  fire  goin',"  he  said. 

[162] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Gee  whizz!"  exclaimed  that  worthy  disdainfully, 
not  having  the  least  idea  why  anyone  should  want  a 
fire  on  such  a  day. 

"I'll  take  the  axe,"  said  Beany,  "an'  cut  th'  big 
stuff.  You  an'  th'  Tub  can  pick  up  the  li'le  stuff." 
Fearing  an  argument  he  pulled  the  hatchet  from 
under  a  pile  of  cooking  utensils  and  walked  away. 

Picking  out  a  large  white  birch  near  the  edge  of 
the  woods  Beany  took  a  few  preliminary  hacks.  The 
hatchet,  never  a  dangerous  tool,  scratched  the  bark 
slightly. 

"That's  a  little  big,"  he  muttered  apologetically 
to  himself  and  turned  his  attention  to  a  small  sap 
ling.  The  result  was  much  the  same  as  if  he  had 
pounded  on  the  top  of  a  heavy  steel  spring  with  a 
tack  hammer.  Drops  of  perspiration  spattered  the 
leaves  at  his  feet. 

He  looked  up.  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  were 
busy  picking  up  dead  branches.  A  few  feet  away 
lay  a  young  birch  broken  by  the  weight  of  a  larger 
tree  which  had  fallen  against  it.  It  was  only  at 
tached  to  its  roots  by  a  few  splinters.  Beany  man 
aged  to  hack  through  these  and  dragged  the  tree 
a  few  feet  into  the  open. 

[163] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Come  on,  you  fellas,  an'  gi'  me  a  ban',"  he  called. 
They  surveyed  his  work  with  admiration. 

"Gu-gu-gosh,  you  cut  that  quick,"  said  the  Tub. 

"It  don't  take  any  time  if  you  know  how." 

Gangleshanks,  however,  more  cynical,  was  exam 
ining  the  splintered  base.  "You  didn't  cut  that!" 

Something  in  his  tone  irritated  Beany.  "How 
do  you  think  I  got  it  down  ?  Broke  it  off  ?" 

"You  found  it,"  declared  Gangleshanks  decidedly. 

A  great  anger  rose  in  Beany's  breast.  He  had 
been  accused  of  lying.  He  felt  that  his  honor  was 
in  question. 

"I  guess  I  ought  to  know  if  I  cut  it  or  not,"  he 
almost  shouted. 

"Bet  you  didn't." 

"How  much  you  bet?"  Beany  plunged  his  hand 
into  his  pocket  threatening  to  draw  out  huge  sums. 

"Won't  bet  anything.  Just  bet  you  didn't,"  said 
Gangleshanks  inconsistently.  "It's  dead." 

"Course  it's  dead.  You  expect  it's  goin'  t'  live 
after  it's  cut?" 

"Le's  eat,"  suggested  the  Tub  once  more  with 
rare,  although  unconscious,  diplomacy.  His  interior 
began  to  feel  like  a  sucked  egg. 

They  built  their  fire  near  the  brook  and  dragged 
[164] 


AND  THE  TUB 

the  birch  across  the  top.  With  the  aid  of  a  news 
paper  and  three  boxes  of  matches  the  pile  was  finally 
lit.  Beany  gazed  at  his  handiwork  admiringly. 
"There,"  he  said.  "Now  I  guess  we're  most  ready 
to  eat." 

The  dry  wood  burned  fiercely.  They  sat  down  as 
near  the  fire  as  possible  and  prepared  to  make  merry 
on  sardines  and  bread.  The  air  about  them  quiv 
ered  with  heat.  A  transatlantic  stoker  would  have 
found  it  unbearable.  They  held  their  ground,  how 
ever,  without  a  murmur.  Such  is  art. 

Having  disposed  of  a  colorless  meal  they  drank 
deeply  from  the  brook  and  then  lay  down  to  con 
sider  their  next  move.  All  three  had  an  uncom 
fortable  picnic  sensation  of  being  bloated  with  food 
and  yet  still  hungry.  It  was  a  lazy  afternoon.  They 
spent  a  long  time  staring  blankly  at  the  hot  sky. 

Gradually  the  sun  began  to  approach  the  tops  of 
the  trees.  "We  got  to  get  things  in  shape  f'r  supper 
pretty  soon,"  said  Gangleshanks,  breaking  the  long 
silence. 

"You  bet,"  agreed  Beany  without  moving.  The 
Tub  said  nothing.  His  body  had  gradually  relaxed 
and  through  his  scratched  nose  emerged  quiet  sleep 
ing  noises. 

[165] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Beany  had  good  reasons  for  wishing  to  put  off  the 
preparation  of  supper  as  long  as  possible.  At  his 
insistence  they  had  adhered  strictly  to  the  list  of 
food  supplies  prescribed  by  "The  Camper's  Guide." 
Flour,  rice  and  cornmeal  had  sounded  very  profes 
sional  in  Walnut  street.  Now  that  the  time  was 
coming  when  they  must  be  transformed  into  some 
thing  edible  he  wished  that  he  had  taken  his  mother's 
advice  and  laid  in  a  larger  stock  of  more  amateurish 
but  less  mysterious  foods. 

He  rose  to  his  feet  and  stretched.  "I'm  not  sure 
I  want  any  supper,"  he  said.  Then  suddenly  he  be 
gan  to  shout  and  wave  his  arms.  Gangleshanks, 
who  was  lying  in  the  long  grass  and  could  see  little 
but  the  sky,  thought  that  the  heat  might  have 
affected  him  and  looked  on  with  interest. 

"Hi,  you  darn  fool.    Get  out  o'  there !" 

Gangleshanks  sat  up  to  investigate.  The  Tub 
didn't  stir. 

A  cow  was  placidly  nosing  over  their  food  sup 
ply.  Gangleshanks  jumped  up  and  hurled  a  stone 
at  the  intruder.  Then,  arming  themselves  from  the 
bottom  of  the  brook,  they  proceeded  to  avenge  the 
trespass. 

The  cow  lumbered  away  a  short  distance,  then 
[166] 


turned  to  look  at  them  reproachfully.  Gangle- 
shanks  drew  back  his  hand  to  throw  another  stone. 
Beany  seized  his  arm. 

"Don't  do  that,"  he  said.     "I  got  an  idear." 

The  arm  was  lowered  unwillingly.  "What 
idear?" 

"Le's  milk  it." 

Gangleshanks  looked  as  if  he  doubted  his  ears. 
"Milk  it !"  he  repeated.  "Milk  that  ol'  cow !  Why 
you  couldn't  milk  that  cow  in  a  milyun  years.  First 
place,  how  do  you  know  it's  tame?" 

"I'm  not  afraid  o'  that  darn  cow.  I  guess  he 
better  be  tame." 

"You  couldn't  milk  a  cow  anyway." 

"Could  too." 

"How  could  you?  You  never  milked  one  in  your 
life." 

"That's  all  right.  I've  seen  'em.  It  just  runs 
out  of  'em.  Here,  boss.  Here,  boss."  He  snapped 
his  fingers  enticingly,  but  the  cow  remained  firmly 
rooted,  refusing  to  be  fooled  by  such  bromidic  in 
ducements.  Beany  gathered  a  handful  of  long  grass. 
Holding  this  bait  in  front  of  him  he  started  forward 
a  step  at  a  time. 

"Wha'd'ya  s'pose  he  cares  f'r  that  li'le  bit  o* 
[167] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

hay?"  asked  Gangleshanks  contemptuously.  "He 
can  eat  th'  whole  field  if  he  wants." 

The  cow  stood  her  ground,  all  four  feet  spread 
out  and  tail  rigid,  until  they  were  within  a  few  feet. 
Then,  with  a  snort  and  a  playful  flick  of  her  heels, 
she  turned  and  galloped  off  to  a  distant  corner. 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks  accepted  the  challenge. 
Their  primitive  hunting  instincts  were  aroused. 
Separating,  they  worked  their  way  along  converg 
ing  fences.  The  cow  waited  until  the  net  was  al 
most  closed  and  then  ran  between  them  and  off  down 
the  field  once  more. 

Round  and  round  the  field  they  went  after  the 
terrified  animal,  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  in  full 
cry.  They  were  thoroughly  delighted  with  this  un 
expected  turn  of  events.  Time  after  time  they 
worked  her  into  a  corner.  Then,  when  almost 
trapped,  she  would  put  down  her  head  and  dash 
between  them  once  more  to  the  security  of  the  open 
field.  They  had  no  intentions  of  catching  her.  The 
original  idea  of  obtaining  milk  was  forgotten. 
Their  one  object  now  was  pursuit. 


[168] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  WIND  AMONG  THE   BRANCHES 

In  spite  of  all  this  the  sun  continued  on  its  normal 
course  towards  the  horizon  and  finally  disappeared- 
behind  the  trees  as  if  nothing  was  happening.  By 
this  time  all  three  participants  in  the  contest  were 
in  a  state  of  frenzy.  At  last,  after  skirting  the  field 
twice,  the  cow  turned  suddenly,  plunged  through 
the  brook,  and  disappeared  into  the  woods  on  the 
opposite  side.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  followed. 

At  first  the  cow  galloped  along  a  faint  path  which 
wound  among  the  trees.  Then,  turning  off  sharply,/ 
she  plunged  into  the  bushes.  They  traced  her  coursei 
by  the  crashing  of  broken  branches.  The  woods 
were  thick  and  the  going  slow.  Judging  by  the 
noise  of  the  chase  the  cow  appeared  to  have  the  ad 
vantage.  They  scrambled  down  a  shallow  gully 
which  lay  across  their  course  and  found  themselves 
in  a  clump  of  young  alders  which  shot  out  of  a  dense 
undergrowth.  Gangleshanks  gave  a  howl  of  pain. 

"It  scratches." 

[169] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Of  course  it  does,"  said  Beany,  who  had  been 
more  cautious.  "Golly  day,  you're  a  fine  camper, 
you  are,  if  you're  goin'  to  stop  every  time  you  get 
a  scratch.  I  guess  the  ol'  cow  didn't  stop  an  holler 
about  it,  did  he?" 

They  paused  to  listen.  Not  only  did  they  fail  to 
hear  the  cow  "hollering,"  but  even  the  noise  of  its 
smashing  progress  had  ceased.  The  faint  cry  of  a 
bird  over  their  heads  broke  the  silence. 

"Now  you  gone  an'  lost  him.  Golly  day,  if  I  was 
such  a  baby  I'd  stay  home." 

"Baby!  I  guess  if  you  was  havin'  your  skin 
pulled  off  you'd  say  something  about  it."  Gangle- 
shanks  was  indignant. 

<rWell,  you  got  t'  go  without  a  good  glass  o'  cold 
milk,  that's  all.  There's  nothin'  much  better,  either, 
than  a  glass  right  out  o'  th'  cow."  Beany  had  never 
personally  tested  milk  under  these  conditions,  but 
his  grandmother,  who  repeated  herself,  never  saw 
a  cow  without  making  the  remark.  He  merely 
passed  the  information  along  for  what  it  was  worth. 

"Look."  Gangleshanks  was  showing  little  inter 
est  in  the  merits  of  fresh  milk.  He  pointed  to  a 
fork  in  one  of  the  alders.  Just  out  of  reach  was  a 

[170] 


AND  THE  TUB 

nest  over  the  top  of  which  projected  three  fuzzy 
balls. 

By  climbing  adjoining  trees  they  obtained  a  per 
fect  view  of  this  phenomena.  The  nest  contained 
three  mothy-looking  birds  who  were  protesting 
against  life  at  the  top  of  their  new  lungs.  Angry 
cries  from  their  parent  floated  down  from  some 
where  above  them.  They  watched,  fascinated,  un 
til  Beany  discovered  that  it  had  grown  almost  dark. 

"I  guess  we  better  be  gettin'  back,"  he  said.  "The 
Tub'll  be  wonderin'  where  we  are." 

"That  oP  Tub!  Gee  whizz,  I  bet  he'd  sleep  'til 
we  went  home." 

They  climbed  down  and  picked  their  way  out  of 
the  gully.  The  woods  became  thicker  and  the 
shadows  deeper. 

"Funny  we  don't  come  across  that  path." 

"It's  right  up  ahead."  Beany  trudged  confidently 
on  through  the  gloom. 

There  is  a  fortunate  tendency  in  every  human 
being  to  consider  himself  immune  from  the  daily 
accidents  of  life.  Heroes  are  merely  people  in 
whom  this  trait  is  developed  to  a  high  degree.  A 
twelve-year-old  boy  in  particular,  views  the  bunkers 
of  fate  with  the  disinterested  eye  of  a  god — if  he 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

sees  them  at  all.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  had 
gloated  over  the  misfortunes  of  wretches  lost  in  the 
woods.  It  had  never  occurred  to  them,  however, 
that  they  were  eligible  to  a  similar  experience. 
Even  now  they  refused  to  believe  it. 

It  was  almost  completely  dark.  The  trunks  of 
the  smaller  trees  were  already  invisible.  They 
worked  along  through  the  underbrush,  their  hands 
stuck  out  before  them. 

"Funny  we  don't  come  to  that  path,"  said  Gangle 
shanks  again. 

He  was  the  first  to  lose  his  sense  of  aloofness 
from  mishap.  It  was  knocked  out  of  him  by  the 
trunk  of  a  large  tree.  "Gee  whizz,"  he  exclaimed 
in  a  small,  frightened  voice.  "I  think  we're  lost." 

"Rats!"  replied  Beany,  with  no  great  confidence. 
"How  c'n  you  be  lost?  Th'  woods  don't  go  every 
where.  All  you  got  to  do  is  to  keep  walkin'  straight 
an'  you  got  to  come  out  somewheres." 

"Yes,  but  don't  you  remember  what  the  book 
says  about  people  walkin'  round  in  circles  in  the 
woods?  Don't  you  remember  how  it  says  when  you 
get  lost  to  stay  where  you  are  till  somebody  finds 
you?" 

"How's  anybody  goin'  t'  find  you  here,  I'd  like 
[172] 


AND  THE  TUB 

t'  know?  Besides,  I  guess  I  know  if  I'm  walkin'  in 
circles  or  not.  Golly  day,  if  you  hold  your  arm 
straight  out  in  front  of  you  an'  follow  that  you 
can't  walk  in  circles,  can  you?" 

Gangleshanks  looked  doubtful.  "It  don't  seem's 
if  you  could.  I  hate  t'  go  against  th'  book,  though." 

"Well,  we'll  find  th'  path  in  a  minute." 

They  stumbled  on  through  the  darkness,  tripping 
over  fallen  trunks,  running  into  trees,  scratching 
their  faces  on  low-hanging  branches.  Finally 
Gangleshanks  went  headlong  over  a  protruding  root 
and  hurt  his  hand.  He  began  to  whimper. 

"I  ain't  goin'  any  further." 

Beany  stopped.  It  slowly  dawned  on  him  that 
they  were  lost.  Ordinarily  this  discovery  would 
have  been  celebrated  with  tears.  The  sound  of 
Gangleshanks'  whimpering,  however,  gave  his  pride 
the  necessary  incentive.  His  voice  had  a  tremble 
in  it,  but  his  tone  was  intrepid.  "Come  here,"  he 
said.  "It's  kind  o'  grassy.  We'll  sit  down  an'  talk 
it  over." 

Gangleshanks  groped  his  way  to  his  side. 
"What'rey'  goin'  t'  do?" 

"We're  goin'  t'  stay  here  'til  mornin'." 
[173] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"I  wan'a  go  home."  Gangleshanks'  whimpering 
had  developed  into  shameless  crying. 

"Golly  day,  what's  th'  sense  in  talkin'  like  that? 
How  you  goin'  home  when  you  can't  even  find  your 
way  out  o'  these  ol'  woods?"  Beany  found  com 
fort  in  the  sound  of  his  own  voice.  "I  guess  it  won't 
hurt  you  t'  spend  th'  night  in  th'  woods,  will  it? 
Golly  day,  if  a  fella's  goin'  campin'  he's  got  to  spend 
th'  night  in  th'  woods  once  in  a  while.  There's 
nothin'  t'  be  scared  of.  I'd  just  as  soon  spend  th' 
night  in  th'  woods  all  alone.  I'd  just — what's 
that?" 

His  monologue  was  interrupted  by  the  cracking 
of  a  branch  behind  them.  They  listened,  tense,  but 
it  was  not  repeated.  It  became  rumored  about 
among  the  mosquitoes  that  a  banquet  had  been 
placed  at  their  doors  and  they  arrived  in  hungry 
swarms.  Finally  Beany  discovered  that  by  lying 
on  his  stomach  with  his  face  in  his  hands  and  a 
handkerchief  over  the  back  of  his  neck,  their  only 
source  of  supply  was  his  ears.  Thus  entrenched, 
they  talked. 

As  the  first  terror  of  the  darkness  wore  off  they 
began  to  gain  a  grim  satisfaction  from  the  novelty 
of  the  situation.  "Gee  whizz,  I  guess  there'll  be 

[174] 


AND  THE  TUB 

some  hullabaloo  in  town  when  they  find  we're  lost," 
mumbled  Gangleshanks  through  his  hands. 

"Yes,  an'  th'  Tub'll  be  sore  he  went  to  sleep  an' 
didn'  get  in  on  it.  Nobody'll  pay  any  'tention  to 
him.  They'll  all  be  gettin'  us  to  tell  about  it." 

"I  wouldn'  be  surprised  if  our  pictures  was  in 
th'  paper." 

"Oh,  no.  I  don't  guess  they'll  do  that."  Beany 
was  more  modest. 

"Why  not?  They  stuck  Charlie  Abrams  in  when 
he  got  almost  drownded." 

"That's  different.  You  got  to  be  pretty  near 
killed  to  get  your  picture  in  the  paper." 

"Well,  how  do  you  know  we  won't  be  before  we 
get  through?" 

"That's  right.  We  might,"  said  Beany  hope 
fully.  "I  guess  that  'ud  get  the  Tub's  goat  all  right. 
'James  Fleming,  son  o'  Mr.  an'  Mrs.  Fleming  o' 
th'  same  name,  who  heroically  'scaped  death  last 
Wednesday  evenin'.'  Wouldn't  he  be  sore!" 

"We  might  be  killed  all  the  way,"  went  on  Gangle 
shanks,  his  thirst  for  publicity  running  away  with 
his  imagination.  "Then  I  guess  there'd  be  some 
fun." 

[175] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"The  paper'd  have  a  story  about  us  right  on  th' 
front  page." 

"Yes,  an'  th'  Fish  might  give  th'  school  a  half- 
holiday  the  way  he  did  when  Johnny  Berry  died." 

"He  couldn't  do  that  now  on  account  of  vaca 
tion." 

"That's  right.  It's  kind  of  a  bad  time,"  agreed 
Gangleshanks.  "Tell  you  what  they  might  do, 
though.  They  might  put  up  one  o'  those  brass 
signs  in  church  th'  way  they  did  f 'r  Johnny." 

"Yes,  an'  th'  ol'  fat  minister  'ud  get  up  an'  tell 
about  what  fine  boys  we  were  f'r  half  an  hour." 

"Golly  day,  wouldn't  that  make  the  Tub  sore," 
said  Beany  dreamily,  after  turning  this  picture  over 
in  his  mind  for  several  seconds.  A  breeze  had 
sprung  up  and  was  sighing  through  the  wood.  The 
mosquitoes  became  less  offensive.  He  wriggled  him 
self  into  a  more  comfortable  position  and  gave  him 
self  up  to  the  pleasant  contemplation  of  such  an 
ending. 

He  saw  a  great  parade  marching  solemnly  down 
the  street  behind  his  hearse.  In  the  very  front  rank 
walked  the  school  headed  by  the  Fish.  The  latter 
was  weeping  bitterly  at  the  injustices  which  he  had 
done  him.  Directly  behind  were  a  number  of  little 

[176] 


AND  THE  TUB 

girls  dressed  in  white.  They  carried  wreaths  for 
the  grave.  He  could  make  out  the  inscription  on 
the  wreaths:  "Our  Hero."  Crowds  lined  the  curb 
ing  on  either  side.  He  could  hear  his  name  shouted 
from  time  to  time,  followed  by  cheers. 

It  is  hard  to  say  just  where  Gangleshanks  came 
into  this  funeral  jubilee.  Perhaps  he  had  been 
buried  more  privately  on  another  day.  Possibly 
he  may  have  been  cremated.  Whatever  the  cause 
it  is  certain  that  no  mention  of  his  name  stirred 
the  throngs  which  peopled  Beany's  mind. 

He  became  so  wrapped  up  in  the  spectacle  that 
he  was  startled  by  a  muffled  sob  at  his  elbow.  "I 
don'  wan'a  die,"  moaned  Gangleshanks. 

"Golly  day,  who  said  you  were  goin'  to?"  asked 
Beany  impatiently.  It  was  just  like  Gangleshanks 
to  take  a  mournful  view  of  the  situation. 

"I  don't  wan'a  brass  sign.  I  don'  wan'a  be  like 
Johnny  Berry.  I  wan'a  go  home." 

A  similar  desire  suddenly  welled  up  in  Beany's 
interior,  mounting  until  his  neck  felt  like  the  mumps. 
Gangleshanks  became  more  violent.  "I  wan'a  go 
home,"  he  cried. 

"Oh,  sh-sh-shut  up."  Beany's  voice  was  un 
steady.  He  struggled  with  himself,  then,  burying 

[177] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

his  face  deeper  in  his  arms,  he  allowed  the  emotions 
of  the  last  hour  to  flow  into  his  coat-sleeve  unre 
strained. 

Gradually  the  small  choking  noises  from  under 
the  tree  became  more  intermittent.  The  woods 
settled  down  to  rest.  Only  the  occasional  chirp  of 
an  insect  or  the  brushing  of  the  wind  through  the 
trees  disturbed  the  night. 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XXI 

RECALL 

A  full  stomach,  plus  a  June  sun  reenforced  by  fire, 
had  reduced  the  Tub  to  a  state  of  coma  which  would 
have  been  the  envy  of  the  most  ambitious  anaconda. 
He  lay  on  his  back,  his  mouth  offering  a  cool  re 
treat  for  itinerant  bugs. 

The  shouts  of  the  amateur  toreadors,  if  they 
reached  him  at  all,  only  furnished  food  for  dreams. 
Beany  and  Gangleshanks  disappeared  into  the 
woods.  The  sun  disappeared  behind  the  same.  A 
new  moon  was  introduced  to  the  world  by  the  gath 
ering  twilight.  And  the  Tub  slept  swiftly  on. 

A  large  bluebottle  tacked  across  the  field  search 
ing  for  a  place  to  spend  the  night.  He  spied  the 
Tub's  face,  crimson  from  the  recent  sun.  Sup 
posing  it  to  be  some  new  kind  of  a  rose,  he  settled 
on  the  nose  and  looked  about. 

The  nose  wrinkled  uneasily,  whereupon  the  blue 
bottle  climbed  quickly  down  and  crawled  across  the 

[179] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

upper  lip  in  order  to  examine  the  pit  below.  The 
Tub  made  an  uneasy  motion  with  his  hand.  The 
bluebottle  stood  perfectly  still  and  it  didn't  develop 
beyond  a  twitch. 

He  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the  crater  and  looked 
down.  The  prospect  appealed  to  him.  To  be  sure 
there  was  a  strong  breeze  blowing  through,  but  it 
also  appeared  dark  and  safe.  He  saw  a  number  of 
crannies  where  he  could  be  well  out  of  the  draft. 

Letting  himself  down  carefully  he  started  to  crawl 
under  the  Tub's  tongue.  To  the  end  of  his  days 
he  will  bore  his  friends  with  what  followed.  There 
was  a  convulsion.  The  mouth  of  the  pit  closed  sud 
denly.  The  blue-bottle  narrowly  escaped  death  in 
its  dark,  erupting  recesses.  Then  he  was  forced 
into  the  air  with  tremendous  impetus,  accompanied 
by  a  deafening  noise. 

The  Tub  sat  up  spitting  imaginary  bluebottles  in 
all  directions.  It  was  dark.  For  a  moment  he  could 
not  think  where  he  was.  Then  he  saw  the  glowing 
ashes  of  the  fire,  felt  the  grass  under  his  hand,  and 
slowly  realized  that  he  was  in  the  wilds.  He  stood 
up  to  find  his  companions,  but  was  unable  to  see 
through  the  darkness. 

"Hi,  Beany!  Oh,  Gangleshanks!"  he  called. 
[180] 


AND  THE  TUB 

The  only  answer  was  a  faint  "-shanks,"  thrown  back 
at  him  by  the  woods. 

His  first  and  natural  thought  was  that  this  was 
some  new  kind  of  a  joke.  "Cu-cu-cu-come  on  out  o' 
there.  I  see  you,"  he  shouted.  The  only  effect  of 
this  stratagem,  however,  was  to  make  his  voice 
sound  strangely  out  of  place. 

The  Tub  sat  down,  miserable,  and  listened.  He 
could  hear  nothing  but  the  fiddling  of  a  cricket 
orchestra  in  the  field.  Fear  crept  over  him.  He 
turned  suddenly  to  catch  the  Thing  which  he  was 
sure  was  behind  him.  Then  his  courage  sank  one 
notch  lower.  He  didn't  dare  to  look  again. 

The  dread  of  ridicule  kept  him  seated  beside  the 
dying  fire.  He  had  no  doubt  that  Beany  and  Gangle- 
shanks  had  gone  on  some  expedition  and  would  be 
back  shortly.  He  considered  it  shabby  treatment, 
however,  to  leave  him  alone  like  this  without  a 
word  of  warning. 

The  grass  rustled.  The  Tub  shrank  even  more 
within  himself.  Then  he  knew  that  it  was  the  breeze 
moving  the  tops  of  the  grass  above  his  head.  He 
could  make  out  the  woods  in  front  of  him;  a  black 
bank  of  mystery.  The  feeble  glow  from  the  fire 
only  made  the  darkness  more  jumpy.  He  decided 

[181] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

to  wait  until  he  had  counted  two  hundred  slowly. 
After  that  he  had  no  plans. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  innocent  cause  of  all  this 
confusion  had  been  standing  for  some  time  in  a  be 
wildered  frame  of  mind  near  the  edge  of  the  woods. 
She  had  never  regarded  man  as  a  friendly  animal. 
On  the  other  hand,  until  today,  his  hostility  had 
merely  taken  the  form  of  an  occasional  whack  with 
a  rake  handle  or  a  passing  kick  which  did  not  hurt 
much.  It  might  have  been  a  form  of  human  play 
for  all  that  she  could  tell. 

These  bipeds  of  the  afternoon  had  been  unmis 
takably  different.  It  was  obvious  from  the  first 
that  they  had  intended  severe  bodily  injury.  For 
that  reason  she  had  not  returned  to  the  barn  as 
was  her  custom,  but  had  chosen  to  remain  in  the 
friendly  shelter  of  the  woods.  The  flies,  however, 
were  troublesome.  For  a  long  time  she  stood  quite 
still,  brushing  them  off  as  best  she  could  with  her 
tail.  Then  the  whole  affair  got  on  her  nerves  and 
she  made  a  dash  for  the  open  field  in  front. 

The  Tub  had  counted  up  to  one  hundred  and 
ten.  He  found  the  counting  rather  comforting. 
Then  he  stopped  and  stared  at  the  woods,  his  body 
rigid  with  fear.  The  only  thing  which  prevented 

[182] 


AND  THE  TUB 

his  hair  from  standing  on  end  was  its  normal  ten 
dency  to  that  position. 

The  stillness  had  been  broken  by  a  great  commo 
tion  in  the  underbrush.  A  black  form,  darker  even 
than  the  surrounding  blackness,  came  bounding 
towards  him.  This  was  the  last  straw.  The  Tub's 
mental  back  crumbled.  His  legs  recovered  from  a 
momentary  paralysis.  Leaping  to  his  feet  he  raced 
across  the  field  to  the  fence.  In  that  brief  dash 
the  Tub  showed  promise  of  track  material  hitherto 
unsuspected. 

The  first  wheel  which  he  grabbed  was  his  own. 
He  felt  the  twisted  handlebars  and  threw  it  aside 
frantically.  Seizing  Gangleshanks',  which  stood 
next,  he  hurled  it  over  the  fence  and  followed  it  with 
his  own  body. 

To  the  Tub's  surprise  there  were  lights  in  his 
home  as  he  pedaled  slowly  and  wearily  up  the  drive 
way.  He  was  damp,  dirty  and  disgusted.  The 
cool,  well-groomed  appearance  of  the  house  gave 
him  the  sensations  of  a  traveler,  who  stumbles  on 
a  desert  spring  which  he  had  sought,  but  never 
hoped  to  reach.  The  horror  of  the  last  two  hours 
fell  from  him  like  a  garment. 

Dismounting,  he  gazed  at  the  lights  thoughtfully. 
[183] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

He  had  supposed  that  it  must  be  the  middle  of  the 
night.  If  so  these  lights  might  indicate  a  search 
party.  Then  he  decided  that  they  were  too  tranquil 
to  be  connected  with  any  disturbance. 

Leaning  Gangleshanks'  wheel  against  the  cellar 
window  he  mounted  the  front  steps  on  tiptoe  and 
peered  under  the  living-room  shade.  His  father 
was  reading  aloud  from  a  book  while  his  mother 
knitted.  The  calmness  of  the  scene  irritated  the 
Tub.  One  might  suppose  it  a  matter  of  utter  in 
difference  to  them  if  their  son  were  being  torn  to 
pieces  by  wild  animals  in  the  wilderness. 

He  was  about  to  knock  on  the  window  when  a 
new  thought  flashed  through  his  mind.  How  was 
he  going  to  explain  his  presence  without  either  Beany 
or  Gangleshanks?  Of  course  he  might  say  that 
they  were  lost.  On  the  other  hand  suppose  that 
they  were  sleeping  soundly  in  the  tent  at  this  mo 
ment.  In  that  event  his  name  would  go  down  in 
history  as  a  joke.  His  ribs  ached  at  the  thought. 

In  this  indecisive  frame  of  mind  the  Tub  went 
down  the  steps  and  stood  by  his  wheel,  wavering. 
He  wished  that  he  were  brave  enough  to  ride  all 
the  way  back  and  clear  up  the  mystery.  Nothing, 
however,  would  have  induced  him  to  visit  that  field 

[184] 


AND  THE  TUB 

again  until  it  was  lit  by  the  convincing  rays  of  the 
sun. 

He  went  around  to  the  side  door  and  felt  under 
the  mat.  His  fingers  closed  on  the  latch  key.  By 
letting  himself  in  quietly  he  could  sneak  up  the  back 
stairs  unnoticed.  In  the  morning  the  situation 
might  have  changed.  He  considered  the  possibility 
of  rising  early  and  returning  to  the  camp  before 
anyone  was  up. 

It  was  a  mess  whichever  way  one  looked  at  it. 
So  he  did  the  easiest  thing.  He  unlocked  the  door 
softly,  replaced  the  key  under  the  mat,  and  crept 
upstairs  to  his  room.  There  he  undressed  stealthily 
without  turning  on  the  light  and  crawled  into  bed. 


[185] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  DAY 

The  sun  was  pushing  its  first  rays  over  the  edge 
of  the  hills  when  Beany  was  awakened  by  a  strange 
cry.  It  appeared  to  have  been  uttered  right  in  his 
ear.  He  sat  up  and  looked  about  him  considerably 
dazed.  He  had  been  lying  on  a  patch  of  leaf- 
strewn  grass  near  the  edge  of  the  woods.  A  few 
yards  away  his  view  was  cut  off  by  the  back  of  a 
red  barn.  On  the  overhanging  eaves  stood  a 
rooster,  confidently  challenging  the  morning  sun. 

Gangleshanks  moved  uneasily,  then  sat  up,  rub 
bing  his  eyes.  He  ceased  rubbing  to  stare.  He 
looked  at  Beany,  at  the  barn,  at  his  own  feet.  Then 
he  reached  out  and  touched  Beany  gingerly.  Ap 
parently  satisfied  of  his  earthliness  he  ventured  to 
speak. 

"How'd  we  get  here?" 

Beany  shook  his  head.     "Got  me." 

"But  I  thought  we  was  lost  in  the  woods." 

"We  were." 

[186] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Then  how'd  we  get  here?" 

"Golly  day,  I  tol'  you  I  didn't  know."  Beany 
had  been  awake  a  few  moments  longer  than  Gangle- 
shanks  and  his  mind  was  proportionately  clearer. 
As  it  cleared  his  conviction  became  stronger  that 
there  had  been  a  mistake — the  sort  of  a  mistake 
which  is  packed  carefully  in  the  family  cupboard 
and  the  key  thrown  away. 

"Gee  whizz,  you  don't  mean  t'  say  we  been  sittin' 
behind  that  barn  all  night!"  To  Gangleshanks  the 
dawn  of  truth  was  cold  and  grey. 

"I  guess  we  have."  They  sat  and  gazed  moodily 
at  the  barn,  half  expecting  to  see  it  disappear  in  a 
puff  of  smoke.  "Golly  day,  if  we'd  walked  straight 
ahead  like  I  wanted  to  we'd  a'  been  at  that  farm 
house  in  another  minute." 

"That's  right,"  cried  Gangleshanks  hotly. 
"Blame  it  on  me.  I  s'pose  it  was  me  that  picked 
out  this  place  an'  said  we'd  stay  here  till  mornin'. 
Gee  whizz,  I'm  hungry — an'  stiff,  too."  He  rose 
and  tried  stretching.  The  effort  brought  him  no 
pleasure,  so  he  gave  it  up  and  hobbled  to  the  edge 
of  the  woods.  "Come  here,"  he  said.  Beany  ap 
proached  him  unsteadily.  "Look  a'  that."  Instead 
of  the  trackless  forest  which  they  had  imagined  the 

[187] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

night  before  the  country  lay  spread  out  on  either 
side  of  the  barn  in  a  succession  of  neatly  ploughed 
fields. 

"Le's  go  round  th'  woods  an'  get  back  before  the 
Tub  wakes  up,"  suggested  Beany. 

"Perhaps  we  can  make  him  think  we  was  there 
all  night."  Gangleshanks  was  an  optimist. 

They  had  only  taken  a  few  steps,  however,  when 
a  man  with  a  broad  red  face  stepped  around  the 
corner  of  the  barn.  He  wore  a  straw  hat,  too 
small  by  several  sizes  and  too  old  by  several  years. 
The  boys  stopped  and  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 
It  was  Mr.  Javers. 

Amazement  was  not  confined  to  Beany  and 
Gangleshanks.  Mr.  Javers  also  stopped,  stared, 
then  took  off  his  hat  as  if  hoping  to  clear  his  vision 
in  that  way.  Finding  that  he  saw  the  same  thing 
with  or  without  his  hat  he  put  it  on  again,  and  with 
it  his  best  trade  smile. 

"Gooday,"  he  said,  quite  as  if  this  were  a  cus 
tomary  encounter.  So  many  things  remained  unex 
plained  to  Mr.  Javers  because  of  his  deafness  that 
he  had  come  to  accept  conditions  just  about  as  he 
found  them.  "Ain't  seen  my  cow,  have  y'?" 

[188] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"We're  out  campin',"  shouted  Beany.  "An'  we 
got " 

Mr.  Javers  nodded  pleasantly.  "Yes,  indeed,"  he 
interrupted.  "Probably  come  in  hersel'."  Then, 
after  a  pause.  "Had  breakfast?" 

"No."  The  reply  was  so  vehement  that  it  caused 
Mr.  Javers'  unsensitive  ear  drums  to  vibrate.  He 
started,  wondering  if  perhaps  his  hearing  was  get 
ting  better. 

"Come  on,"  he  said.  "Just  goin'."  He  turned 
towards  the  house,  the  boys  following  eagerly. 

Mr.  Javers  evidently  did  not  consider  his  house 
as  part  of  his  model  farm.  Or  perhaps  he  was 
an  efficiency  expert  and  believed  in  saving  motion  by 
letting  everything  lie  where  it  fell.  Whatever  the 
cause  his  domestic  arrangements  would  have  been 
difficult  to  reproduce  without  the  aid  of  dynamite. 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks,  however,  were  not  in 
an  aesthetic  mood.  They  were  starving  materialists. 
As  they  entered  the  kitchen,  living-room  and  dining- 
room  their  noses  learned  from  the  rusty  stove  that 
a  new  life  had  begun.  Recent  sufferings  immedi 
ately  became  a  memory. 

They  could  not  have  fallen  in  with  a  better  man 
than  Mr.  Javers.  Being  unable  to  hear  anything 

[189] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

except  orders  for  butter  and  eggs  he  refrained  from 
unnecessary  conversation.  All  that  concerned  his 
practical  mind  was  that  there  was  Quality  in  the 
house.  In  Its  honor  he  constructed  a  great  omelette, 
supplemented  with  slabs  of  corn  bread,  molasses, 
and  strong  black  coffee. 

The  last  item  added  a  distinct  holiday  flavor  to 
the  whole  meal.  Neither  Beany  nor  Gangleshanks 
were  yet  allowed  to  take  part  in  this  ritual  at  home. 
Privately  they  considered  it  very  bad,  in  which 
judgment  they  were  right.  They  hid  their  distaste, 
however,  and  consumed  it  in  large  quantities,  smack 
ing  their  lips  and  declaring  from  time  to  time  that 
it  was  "the  stuff."  It  gave  them  a  feeling  of  manly 
equality  with  Mr.  Javers. 

"Coin'  in  town?"  asked  Mr.  Javers  when  the 
meal  was  finished.  He  cleaned  up  the  dishes  with 
commendable  simplicity  by  placing  them  in  the  sink 
and  turning  on  the  water. 

Although  Mr.  Javers  did  not  seem  to  have  the 
slightest  interest  in  the  cosmic  forces  which  made 
them  his  guests,  Beany  felt  that  some  explanation 
was  necessary.  With  his  mouth  very  close  to  his 
host's  ear  he  managed  to  convey  three  points :  first, 
that  they  had  gone  camping;  second,  the  location 

[190] 


AND  THE  TUB 

of  the  camp,  and  third,  that  they  would  be  very 
much  obliged  to  Mr.  Javers  if  he  would  take  them 
back  there. 

Mr.  Javers  regarded  him  solemnly  for  several 
seconds.  Then  he  nodded  and  said,  "Yes,  indeed," 
leaving  them  completely  in  the  dark  as  to  whether 
he  had  understood  a  word. 

Within  the  next  half-hour  they  were  seated  in 
the  rear  of  Mr.  Javers'  covered  yellow  truck,  their 
knees  hooked  over  the  tailboard.  Mr.  Javers'  road 
way,  which  consisted  of  two  ruts  made  interesting 
with  an  occasional  rock,  ran  along  the  edge  of  the 
woods  for  several  hundred  yards,  then  merged  with 
the  main  highway.  They  turned  into  the  latter  and 
chugged  through  the  woods  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 
The  country  then  opened  out  once  more  into  farm 
land. 

Beany  looked  curiously  off  to  the  left.  There  was 
a  familiar  look  to  the  field  which  they  were  passing. 
"Stop !"  he  cried  as  a  white  tent  came  into  view. 
But  Mr.  Javers  bowled  serenely  on.  Beany  picked 
a  perilous  way  through  the  butter  and  eggs  to  the 
front  seat.  The  yellow  truck  came  to  a  sudden 
stop. 

They     climbed     down.      "Gooby,"     said     Mr. 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Javers,  releasing  his  break  and  preparing  to  re 
sume  his  journey. 

The  thought  of  being  cut  off  once  more  was  too 
much  for  Gangleshanks.  "Don't  go,"  he  cried. 
"We'll  get  our  stuff  an'  ride  in  with  you." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  agreed  Mr.  Javers.  "Gooby." 
The  truck  started  to  move  ahead.  Gangleshanks 
jumped  on  the  running-board.  "Don't  go,"  he 
screamed.  "Wait.  Ride  in." 

Mr.  Javers  stopped  once  more,  surprised.  "Yes, 
indeed,"  he  said. 

They  climbed  over  the  fence  doubtfully.  It  was 
impossible  to  tell  just  when  the  truck  might  disap 
pear  in  a  cloud  of  dust.  The  camp  had  a  deserted 
look.  One  corner  of  the  tent  had  fallen  down. 
Their  baggage  lay  piled  in  the  grass  where  they 
had  left  it  the  previous  afternoon. 

"Le's  scare  him." 

They  crept  up  on  the  tent,  then  rushed  it  with 
wild  yells,  calculated  to  shorten  the  Tub's  normal 
span  by  several  years. 

It  was  empty. 

"He's  gone!"  They  looked  in  the  direction  of 
the  bicycles. 

"An'  he's  taken  my  bike !"  cried  Gangleshanks 
[192] 


AND  THE  TUB 

wrathfully.  "Just  wait  'til  I  get  hold  o'  that  Tub. 
He  won't  be  able  to  ride  f'r  another  week.  How'd 
he  think  I  was  goin'  t'  get  home  on  that  ol'  thing?" 
They  rolled  the  tent  into  a  ball.  Whatever  else 
they  could  find  went  into  the  back  of  the  truck.  The 
bicycles  were  tied  on  the  running-boards.  The  wilds 
became  once  more  a  field. 

Walnut  street  had  not  yet  breakfasted.  It  was 
still  in  the  act  of  shaving  and  bathing.  Mrs.  Flem 
ing  stood  on  the  front  porch  enjoying  the  early 
morning  coolness.  A  familiar  yellow  truck  drew 
up  in  front  of  the  house. 

"That's  odd,"  she  mused.  "Mr.  Javers  doesn't 
leave  anything  here  till  tomorrow."  Then,  to  her 
amazement,  the  campers  climbed  stiffly  from  the 
rear  of  the  truck  and  began  to  transfer  their  be 
longings  to  the  curb. 

"Now  jus'  shut  up,"  warned  Beany  out  of  the 
side  of  his  mouth  as  he  saw  his  mother  approach. 
"Le'  me  talk." 

When  anything  out  of  the  ordinary  happened 
Mrs.  Fleming  always  concluded  that  there  was  an 
accident  at  the  bottom  of  it.  "Beany!"  she  cried, 
hurrying  towards  them.  "What  is  the  matter?" 

[193] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Why,  nothing,  mother,"  replied  her  son  in  a 
surprised  tone.  He  permitted  himself  to  be  kissed 
with  the  grace  of  a  man  being  brushed  after  having 
his  shoes  shined. 

"But  Alexander?  Where  is  Alexander?"  she 
asked,  failing  to  see  the  Tub.  "Beany,  has  anyone 
been  hurt?  Quickly.  Alexander's  been  hurt." 

This  was  just  the  information  which  Beany 
wanted.  Apparently  his  mother  knew  nothing  of 
the  miserable  experience.  Although  it  deepened  the 
mystery  of  the  Tub's  disappearance,  it  also  solved  his 
problem  by  giving  him  a  reason  for  being  where 
he  was. 

"Oh,  mother!"  he  said,  sparring  for  time.  "Of 
course  nobody's  been  hurt.  You  always  think  some 
body's  been  hurt." 

"But  where's  Alexander?"  she  insisted,  not  reas 
sured,  but  glad  that  if  someone  had  been  hurt  it 
was  Alexander  and  not  Beany. 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Beany.  "We  don't  know. 
We  had  to  come  in  an'  look  for  him.  He  ran  away." 

"Ran  away?"  Mrs.  Fleming  was  more  and 
more  puzzled.  "What  do  you  mean?  Why  should 
he  run  away?" 

Gangleshanks,  who  had  been  untying  the  bicycles, 
[194] 


AND  THE  TUB 

stopped  to  look  at  Beany  in  open-mouthed  admira 
tion.  Never  had  the  Napoleonic  qualities  of  his 
friend  appeared  to  better  advantage.  He  grasped 
the  situation  like  the  faithful  Lieutenant  that  he  was. 
"I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  got  homesick,"  he 
said. 

"An'  he  took  Gangleshanks'  wheel,"  added  Beany. 

"Which  is  why  we  had  to  come  in  with  Mr. 
Javers."  Gangleshanks  considered  the  last  contri 
bution  nothing  less  than  a  flash  of  genius.  All  the 
evidence  seemed  to  be  accumulating  in  their  favor. 

"I'll  telephone  right  down  to  Mrs.  Hemingway." 
Mrs.  Fleming  went  into  the  house,  the  boys  follow 
ing.  Mr.  Javers  looked  after  them  undecidedly  for 
a  moment.  Then  he  said  "Gooby"  to  no  one  in  par 
ticular  and  drove  away. 

Mrs.  Hemingway  was  startled.  She  knew  noth 
ing  about  the  Tub.  She  had  supposed  that  he  was 
with  Beany  and  Gangleshanks.  Then,  laying  down 
the  receiver,  she  climbed  to  his  bedroom  and  opened 
the  door  quietly.  The  Tub  lay  on  his  back,  his 
mouth  open,  his  face  smirched  with  the  stains  of 
travel. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  fellows  have  anything  to  do 
with  that  Hemingway  boy,"  said  Mr.  Fleming  half 

[195] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

an  hour  later  as  he  watched  Beany  and  Gangle- 
shanks  make  tremendous  inroads  on  their  second 
breakfast.  "He's  just  a  little  fool.  That's  what  he 
is.  He's  too  fat." 

"It's  a  shame,"  said  Mrs.  Fleming  sympatheti 
cally.  "Just  when  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  were 
having  such  a  good  time  on  their  camping  trip  to 
have  it  spoiled  by  one  silly  boy.  Why  don't  you 
go  out  again  and  leave  him  behind?  It  would  serve 
him  right." 

uOh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Beany  hastily,  but  with 
studied  indifference.  "I  guess  now  we're  here  we 
might's  well  stay.  I  got  a  lot  o'  stuff  to  do  in 
back." 

"Yes,  there's  a  lot  o'  stuff  to  do  in  back,"  agreed 
Gangleshanks  vaguely. 


[196] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE    DUKE'S    REVENGE 

The  black  cat  sat  beside  the  stove  thoughtfully 
polishing  her  face.  The  kettle  lid  danced  a  merry 
little  jig  to  the  tune  of  escaping  steam.  The  ancient 
alarm  clock,  suspended  by  a  string  over  the  sink, 
ticked  sturdily.  All  was  peace. 

Beany  opened  the  kitchen  door  and  peered  about 
the  room.  The  black  cat  ceased  polishing,  and  fixed 
a  rigid  eye  on  the  intruder.  Experience  had 
taught  her  to  place  no  confidence  in  this  small  human 
who  appeared  ignorant  of  the  laws  governing  the 
relationship  between  men  and  cats. 

Having  assured  himself  that  the  kitchen,  was 
empty  Beany  swung  the  door  open  boldly  and  en 
tered.  A  brown  bowl  lay  bottom  up  on  the  shelf. 
It  housed  a  tin  pie-plate  and  seven  doughnuts. 

Beany  counted  them  twice  with  a  thoughtful  ex 
pression,  and  transferred  six  to  his  pockets.  After 
deliberating  a  moment,  however,  he  removed  one 
and  laid  it  beside  its  mate  on  the  pie-plate.  Reluc- 

[^97] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

tantly  he  replaced  the  brown  bowl  and  turned  in 
the  direction  of  the  back  door. 

Great  events  are  shaped  by  trifles.  The  cackling 
of  geese  altered  the  fate  of  Rome.  Conversely,  the 
statuesque  silence  of  the  black  cat  had  an  unfore 
seen  bearing  upon  Beany's  future.  He  was  bored, 
and  the  black  cat  would  have  afforded  him  just  the 
entertainmeTrt  which  he  craved.  His  attention  was 
directed  instead  to  a  paper-covered  novel  which  lay 
on  the  kitchen  table. 

It  was  the  picture  on  the  cover  which  attracted 
him.  Three  men  were  shown  engaged  in  a  des 
perate  struggle  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  Over 
this  frontispiece  he  read  the  title:  "The  Duke's  Re 
venge."  Having  studied  the  composition  for  a 
moment  Beany  slipped  it  under  his  blouse  and  hur 
ried  through  the  back  door. 

With  his  physical  and  mental  reinforcements  he 
passed  through  the  backyard  and  around  the  corner 
of  the  barn.  In  the  rear  was  a  long,  one-story 
carriage  shed  which  sloped  away  from  the  sharply 
pitched  roof  of  the  main  building  like  a  platform. 
It  was  shut  off  from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  house, 
and  could  only  be  reached  by  means  of  a  telegraph 
pole.  Here  was  privacy. 

[198] 


AND  THE  TUB 

Having  climbed  the  pole  and  settled  himself  with 
his  back  against  the  slate  roof  of  the  barn,  he 
pulled  the  book  from  under  his  blouse,  the  dough 
nuts  from  his  pockets,  and  began  to  read  idly.  Not 
for  long,  however.  The  author  of  "The  Duke's  Re 
venge"  wasted  no  ink  on  useless  scenic  descriptions 
or  characterization.  From  the  first  paragraph  he 
wrote  of  life,  crimson  and  dripping.  Before  he  had 
finished  the  last  doughnut  Beany's  conscious  self 
was  submerged  into  that  of  the  Duke. 

He  had  become  so  absorbed  that  he  did  not  hear 
Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  climb  the  telegraph  pole. 
He  was  not  aware  of  them  until  the  vizor  of  his 
cap  was  jerked  violently  down  over  his  nose. 

"Golly  day,"  he  cried  peevishly,  pulling  off  the 
cap,  "what's  th'  sense  in  that?" 

"Where  you  been?"  asked  Gangleshanks. 

"Here." 

"We  been  whistlin'  fer  you  most  an  hour." 

"Wha-wha-what  you  doin'  ?"  The  Tub  indicated 
the  book  with  a  grimy  finger. 

"Readin',"  replied  Beany  simply.  He  looked  at 
the  book  as  if  he  had  seen  it  for  the  first  time. 

Gangleshanks  sniffed  contemptuously.  This 
seemed  to  him  a  sorry  way  of  passing  an  afternoon. 

[199] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Gee  whizz,  there's  no  pictures  in  it.     I  wouldn't 
read  a  book  with  no  pictures  in  it." 

"Well,  I  guess  you'd  read  this.  Golly  day,  this 
is  th'  slickest  hook  you  ever  saw.  It  starts  right 
out  killin'  a  fellow.  It's  all  about  a  Duke  what  got 
kidnapped  by  gypsies  when  he  was  a  kid.  An'  what 
they  didn't  do  to  that  Duke !  That's  as  far  as 
I've  got." 

"Le-le-le's  read  it,"  suggested  the  Tub. 

"You  read  it."  Beany  pushed  the  book  at  Gangle- 
shanks. 

"You!"  Gangleshanks  pushed  it  back  with  un 
accustomed  modesty. 

"I'll  read  it,"  decided  the  Tub.  He  was  proud 
of  his  reading.  It  was  the  only  form  in  which  he 
could  handle  the  English  language  without  tripping 
over  his  own  tongue.  Gangleshanks,  who  had  few 
literary  tendencies,  amused  himself  by  breaking  off 
bits  of  slate  from  the  roof  and  scaling  them  into  the 
alley  below. 

They  read  until  the  sun  had  set  behind  the  houses 
over  the  way.  Even  Gangleshanks,  forced  to  listen 
by  the  depletion  of  his  slate  reserves,  admitted  that 
it  was  "some  story."  It  was  agreed  that  they  meet 
again  the  following  afternoon  and  finish  the  book. 

[200] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"The  Duke's  Revenge"  would  have  been  pro 
nounced  dull  and  trite  by  more  sophisticated  readers. 
To  Beany,  and  his  small  group  of  thinkers,  the 
struggle  of  the  deposed  Noble  to  regain  his  title 
was  the  essence  of  Romance. 

The  Tub  finished  and  looked  off  across  the  roofs 
with  a  hazy  expression.  "I'd  like  to  be  a  gu-gu- 
gu-gu " 

"Gypsie,"  supplied  Beany.  "So'd  I.  I  bet  I'd 
never  'a  gone  back  to  Dukin' !" 

"Nor  me,"  agreed  Gangleshanks.  "If  I  ever  get 
a  chance  I  wouldn't  be  s'prised  if  I  was  one.  Gee 
whizz,  I  wish  somebody'd  stole  me  when  I  was  a 
kid." 

"Who'd  want  to  steal  you?"  Beany's  tone  was 
belittling  and  the  conversation  drifted  away  from 
Romance. 

The  seed  had  been  sown,  however.  The  influ 
ence  of  "The  Duke's  Revenge"  was  immediately  re 
flected  in  their  daily  lives.  Beany  developed  what 
he  assumed  to  be  a  swaggering,  devil-may-care  walk. 
He  took  to  hissing  thoughtfully  through  his  teeth. 
He  terrified  the  cook  by  confiding  to  her  that  he 
would  as  soon  kill  a  man  as  eat.  He  spoke  seldom 

[201] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

and  replied  to  all  questions  in  short,  gruff  sentences 
emphasized  by  a  scowl. 

Mr.  Fleming  complained  that  he  was  getting  to 
be  an  unmannerly  young  cub.  His  mother,  who 
understood  these  vagaries  better,  merely  shook  her 
head  and  prophesied  that  he  would  be  all  right 
shortly. 

During  the  long  August  afternoons  they  met  as 
gypsies  for  the  purpose  of  kidnapping  children. 
This  was  most  unfortunate  for  the  black  cat  who 
took  the  role  of  the  infants.  Occasionally  they  tor 
tured  a  rich  man  for  his  money.  In  those  phases 
the  Tub  was  always  selected  for  the  victim  by  a 
vote  of  two  to  one. 

Thus  passed  a  week  of  adventurous  Bohemianism. 
Then  Beany  was  obliged  to  make  his  yearly  pilgrim 
age  to  his  Aunt  Julia,  who  lived  in  West  Milford. 
This  broke  up  the  continuity  of  the  sport,  and  after 
a  half-hearted  attempt  to  renew  it,  Gangleshanks 
and  the  Tub  sought  other  pleasures. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  Mr.  Fleming  motored 
out  for  his  son  and  Brought  him  back  during  the 
evening. 

The  following  morning  Beany  appeared  before 
Gangleshanks  had  finished  his  breakfast. 

[202] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"I've  found  some,"  he  whispered  excitedly  as  the 
latter  rose  from  the  table  with  an  eggy  mouth. 

"Found  what?"  asked  Gangleshanks  sleepily. 

"Gypsies,  you  dummy.  A  whole  camp  of  'em. 
Just  like  in  th'  book.  They  had  camp  fires  an' 
were  cookin'  things  'n  everythin'.  I  was  comin' 
home  with  father  in  the  auto  last  night  an'  we  passed 
their  camp.  He  said  they  was  gypsies  all  right.  It 
was  too  dark  to  see  much,  but  they  looked  like  an 
awful  lot." 

Gangleshanks  was  now  more  awake.  "Le's  go 
an'  tell  the  Tub,"  he  suggested. 

On  the  way  to  the  Tub's  Beany  elaborated  on  his 
story,  throwing  in  imaginative  details  from  time  to 
time  until  the  incident  had  attained  the  importance 
of  a  magnificent  adventure.  The  Tub,  when  treated 
to  this  account  de  luxe,  was  duly  impressed. 

"Gu-gu-gosh,"  he  commented,  "le's  go-go-go  an' 
see  'em." 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks  looked  surprised.  The 
possibility  of  coming  into  closer  relationship  with 
Romance  had  not  occurred  to  them.  It  disturbed 
Beany.  He  had  drawn  so  liberally  on  his  imagina 
tion  that  he  felt  the  entire  structure  would  suffer 
from  inspection.  The  Tub,  however,  was  insistent. 

[203] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"We  might  take  our  bikes  and  ride  out  at  that," 
admitted  Gangleshanks.  "Gee  whizz,  I'd  like  to  see 
some  real  gypsies.  They  might  have  a  Duke  with 
'em  or  somethin'." 

The  possibilities  of  this  idea  took  possession  of 
Beany's  imagination  and  outweighed  the  chances 
of  his  being  branded  as  a  Munchausen.  "We  could 
ride  out  in  half  an  hour,"  he  said.  "The  camp's  just 
before  you  get  to  Turnersville." 


[204] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  NOBLEMAN   FROM  NOWHERE 

And  thus  it  came  about  that  a  short  while  later 
three  small  boys,  one  extremely  fat,  all  extremely 
hot,  might  have  been  seen  pumping  down  the  dusty 
road  to  Turnersville.  About  a  mile  outside  of  the 
village  their  progress  was  blocked  by  a  large  sign 
which  announced  "Passable,  but  Dangerous,"  and 
pointed,  with  a  crude  hand,  to  a  trail  worn  through 
the  dusty  grass  on  the  side. 

A  short  distance  back  from  the  road  stood  the 
roadbuilders'  camp;  two  crude  tar-papered  shanties 
in  the  midst  of  a  dismal  clearing.  Scattered  about 
the  open  space  were  the  charred  remains  of  fires 
and  a  motley  debris  of  tin  cans,  pails,  bits  of  cloth 
ing  and  kindling  wood.  It  was  not  yet  eleven.  The 
inhabitants  of  the  camp  were  engaged  in  their  daily 
struggle  to  cut  a  notch  in  Poland's  Hill,  just  around 
the  bend.  The  place  was  deserted. 

"This  is  it."  Beany  felt  that  he  had  given  a 
rather  exaggerated  impression  in  his  description. 

[205] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

In  fact  the  place  looked  very  different  from  what  it 
had  during  his  passing  glimpse  on  the  previous  night. 
Then  the  fires  had  been  lighted;  the  men's  faces, 
lit  by  the  glow,  had  appeared  savage  and  romantic. 
He  was  secretly  disappointed. 

"Wu-wu-where's  the  gypsies?"  asked  the  Tub 
with  suspicion. 

"They're  out,"  retorted  Beany  loyally.  "Golly 
day,  you  don't  think  they're  goin'  to  lie  around  all 
day  waitin'  fer  you,  do  you?" 

The  Tub  appeared  to  accept  this  explanation. 
Propping  their  wheels  against  the  fence  they  ap 
proached  the  bunk-houses.  A  cur  dog  rose  sullenly, 
stretched,  and  after  emitting  one  short  bark,  slunk 
out  of  sight. 

A  moment  later  a  man's  head  appeared  in  the 
doorway  of  the  right-hand  shanty.  He  took  in  the 
boys  slowly,  then  partially  emerged  through  the 
door. 

"Evenin',"  he  greeted. 

He  was  a  most  extraordinary-looking  person  for 
such  a  place.  His  hair,  which  was  shiny  and  black, 
was  carefully  parted  on  the  side  and  plastered  flat 
with  water.  In  the  front  it  rolled  back  like  a 
breaking  wave.  His  face  was  long  and  smooth- 

[206] 


AND  THE  TUB 

shaven  except  for  a  large  mustache  which  curled  up 
at  the  corners.  He  wore  a  green  silk  shirt  and 
a  collar  of  the  stand-up  type  which  fell  away  in 
front,  allowing  his  Adam's  apple  to  move  freely  up 
and  down  like  a  piston.  When  he  talked  it  seemed 
as  if  his  words  were  being  pumped  up  from  some 
inner  reservoir.  Over  all  was  tied  a  large  and  dirty 
apron  which  fell  to  the  top  of  a  pair  of  stylishly 
pointed,  but  cracked,  patent  leather  shoes.  They 
gave  to  his  entire  make-up  an  air  of  jauntiness  out 
of  keeping  with  the  surroundings. 

"Evenin',"  he  repeated  as  they  advanced  doubt 
fully.  "Out  fer  a  little  constitutional?" 

Having  no  idea  what  this  might  mean  they  looked 
at  one  another  and  laughed  nervously.  The  silence 
grew  embarrassing. 

"We  came  to  see  your  camp,"  said  Beany;  Gangle- 
shanks  and  the  Tub  seemed  incapable  of  speech. 

"An'  mighty  polite  of  you,  that  was,"  replied  the 
stranger.  "If  I'd  known  you  was  comin'  I'd  'a  had 
it  tidied  up  a  bit."  He  leaned  against  the  door 
post,  crossed  his  patent  leather  shoes,  and,  produc 
ing  a  half-smoked  cigarette  from  under  his  apron, 
lit  it  without  taking  his  eyes  from  their  faces. 

Beany  felt  that  having  made  the  opening  speech 
[207] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

all  further  advances  were  expected  to  come  from 
him.  He  sought  in  vain  for  something  appropriate 
to  say  to  a  strange  gypsy  who  insisted  upon  refer 
ring  to  the  middle  of  the  morning  as  evening. 

"We've  never  seen  a  gypsy  camp  before,"  he 
offered  lamely. 

The  man  in  the  doorway  looked  puzzled.  Then 
his  mustache  twitched.  He  blew  a  hasty  smoke 
screen  through  his  nose  to  cover  it  up. 

"No!"  he  exclaimed.  "Won't  you  come  in? 
Fortune  tellers  all  out  for  lunch.  Might  sit  down 
an'  wait." 

Inside  was  gloom,  but  as  their  eyes  became  accus 
tomed  to  it  they  made  out  rows  of  bunks  in  double 
tiers.  In  the  middle,  a  long  table  with  benches 
pushed  under  it  on  either  side.  Near  the  door  a 
stove,  on  which  pots  were  bubbling.  The  air  was 
heavy  with  a  thick  smell  of  tar-paper,  garlic  and  wet 
clothes. 

"Seat?"  suggested  the  man,  pulling  one  of  the 
benches  from  under  the  table.  "M'  name's  Doo- 
little.  Good  name  for  gypsy,  eh?" 

They  sat  down  uneasily  and  stared  at  their  host 
in  silence.  This  was  so  different  from  the  gypsy 
camps  described  in  "The  Duke's  Revenge,"  that  they 

[208] 


AND  THE  TUB 

could  find  no  common  meeting  ground.  Mr.  Doo- 
little  busied  himself  over  the  stove  for  some  time, 
then  sat  on  the  end  of  the  table  and  resumed  his 
cigarette. 

"Int-rested  in  gypsies?"  he  asked. 

"Very,"  said  Beany  politely. 

"That's  right,"  approved  Mr.  Doolittle.  "Nice 
people.  Now  you've  seen  the  place,  how  do  you  like 
it?" 

"Fine."  Gangleshanks  spoke  for  the  first  time. 
Mr.  Doolittle  turned  to  stare  at  him. 

"But  sort  o'  diff'rent,"  added  Beany. 

Mr.  Doolittle  blew  a  smoke  ring  through  the  open 
door. 

"Changeable  folks — gypsies,"  he  said.  "How'd 
you  'spect  to  find  'em?" 

"Well,  I  didn't  s'pose  they'd  be  dressed  just  like 
you."  Then,  fearing  lest  he  had  hurt  Mr.  Doo- 
little's  feelings,  Beany  hastened  to  add:  "Of  course 
I  like  the  way  you're  dressed  better.  It's  diff'rent 
from  the  pictures,  that's  all." 

The  stranger  had  an  uncomfortable  way  of  star 
ing  at  the  last  speaker  as  if  digesting  his  words: 
"Well,"  he  confided,  "I  ain't  what  you'd  call  a 
reg'lar  gypsy." 

[209] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Beany  glanced  quickly  at  Gangleshanks.  The 
latter  kicked  back  understandingly.  Was  it  pos 
sible —  ?  No,  it  was  too  absurd.  Beany  leaned  for 
ward. 

"Were  you — were  you  ever  kidnapped?"  he 
asked. 

"When  you  was  a  baby?"  added  Gangleshanks. 

Mr.  Doolittle  looked  from  one  to  the  other  as  if 
certain  suspicions  which  he  had  entertained  as  to 
their  sanity  were  being  confirmed.  He  glanced  at 
the  Tub,  but  he  was  dozing  with  his  head  on  the 
table.  Half  closing  his  own  eyes  he  followed  the 
course  of  a  smoke  ring  as  it  drifted  over  the  stove 
and  dissolved. 

"Mebbe,"  he  said.     "Why?" 

"Oh,  it  isn't  anything."  Beany  felt  that  he  had 
put  himself  in  a  ridiculous  position.  "It's  just  a 
book  we  been  readin'  about  a  fellow  that  was  kid 
napped  by  gypsies  when  he  was  a  kid." 

"Sounds  reasonable,"  remarked  Mr.  Doolittle, 
rising  to  push  one  of  the  pots  further  back  on  the 
stove.  "Wha'd  he  do  about  it?" 

Beany  went  into  the  history  of  the  unfortunate 
Duke  with  some  detail.  He  felt  that  given  an  un 
derstanding  of  the  book,  Mr.  Doolittle  might  not 

[210] 


AND  THE  TUB 

think  his  question  so  foolish.  Their  host  listened 
with  interest,  occasionally  nodding  his  head  and 
blowing  through  his  mustache.  When  Beany  had 
finished  he  sat  looking  from  one  to  the  other  until 
they  began  to  fidget  under  his  stare. 

"Live  back  in  town?"  he  asked  unexpectedly. 

Beany  nodded,  disappointed  that  his  oratory  had 
produced  no  more  effect  than  this. 

"What's  your  father's  business?"  was  the  next 
irrelevant  question. 

"Mine's  a  lawyer."  Beany  wondered  what  pos 
sible  interest  this  could  have  to  the  stranger.  Mr. 
Doolittle  nodded. 

"And  yours?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Gangleshanks 
as  if  he  had  been  a  census-taker. 

"He  makes  things." 

"Of  course.  Of  course."  Mr.  Doolittle  looked 
through  the  open  door  for  several  seconds. 

"Interestin'  yarn  about  that — that — what's  his 
name?" 

"Duke?"  suggested  Beany. 

"Duke.  That's  it.  Duke.  Fiction  strange.  Life 
stranger,  as  the  burglar  said  when  he  fell  through 
the  grating  into  the  lockup.  If  I  was  to  tell  you 
about  myself  you  wouldn't  believe  it." 

[211] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

They  looked  at  him  with  curiosity. 

"I'm  a  Lord!"  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  moved 
away  hastily  along  the  bench.  They  were,  in  turn, 
beginning  to  suspect  that  Mr.  Doolittle  might  not 
possess  all  his  mental  buttons.  The  Tub  opened  his 
eyes  wide,  gazed  at  the  speaker  for  a  moment,  then 
allowed  them  to  close  again. 

"Stranger  still,"  continued  Mr.  Doolittle,  watch 
ing  the  effect  of  his  initial  declaration,  "I  was  stole 
by  gypsies  when  I  was  a  kid." 

Instead  of  being  thrilled  by  this  coincidence, 
Beany  and  Gangleshanks  were  thoroughly  fright 
ened.  If  there  had  been  any  possibility  of  escape 
they  would  have  seized  it,  but  Lord  Doolittle  sat 
between  them  and  the  door.  The  expression  on  his 
face  was  forbidding. 

"Stranger  still,"  said  he,  looking  suspiciously  be 
hind  him  at  the  stove,  "they're  tryin'  to  kill  me." 

Beany's  face  turned  several  shades  lighter  under 
his  coat  of  summer  tan.  "Yu-yes,  sir,"  he  stam 
mered,  for  Lord  Doolittle  appeared  to  be  awaiting 
his  comment. 

"Who  was  it  had  took  the  Dock's  place  an'  was 
tryin'  to  knock  him  off  in  that  story  of  yourn?"  he 
asked. 

[212] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"His  half-brother."  Beany  tried  in  vain  to 
smother  the  quaver. 

"Well,"  Mr.  Doolittle's  voice  sank  almost  to  a 
whisper,  "in  this  case  it's  my  second  cousin." 

He  approached  so  close  that  Beany  could  feel  his 
breath  on  his  face.  "My  second  cousin,"  he  almost 
hissed.  There  was  another  silence. 

"That's — that's  too  bad,"  said  Beany  with  an 
agonized  glance  at  the  bright,  normal  world  just  out 
side  the  door.  Mr.  Doolittle  turned  once  more  to 
his  stove.  Beany's  eyes  met  Gangleshanks'.  With 
mutual  accord  they  rose  and  rushed  past  him,  panic- 
stricken,  into  the  open  air.  To  their  dismay  the 
Tub  dozed  calmly  on.  They  hesitated,  just  over 
the  threshold,  unwilling  to  desert  him,  but  afraid 
to  remain  for  another  moment  in  the  presence  of 
this  ghost  out  of  the  dim  world  of  books. 

"What,  what!"  cried  Mr.  Doolittle  as  they  scur 
ried  past  him.  "Coin'  so  soon?  Why,  we  was  just 
gettin'  acquainted.  Your  young  friend  here  ain't 
in  no  hurry.  Damn  sorry  to  see  you  go,  if  you'll 
excuse  the  expression.  Damn  sorry.  Like  for  to 
meet  up  with  you  again.  You  know  my  address. 
S'pose  you  give  me  yours." 

They  gazed  at  him  without  replying.     The  Tub 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

raised  his  head  from  the  table,  rubbed  his  eyes  and 
stared  about  stupidly. 

"I  was  askin'  your  address?"  said  the  gypsy-Lord. 

"784  Chestnut  Street,"  replied  the  Tub  mechani 
cally.  "Where  yu-yu-you  fellows  goin'?" 

"Home,"  snapped  Beany. 

Mr.  Doolittle  fished  a  pencil  stub  from  under  his 
apron,  tore  the  corner  from  a  piece  of  brown  wrap 
ping  paper  and  made  a  note  of  the  address. 

"Good-bye."  He  left  his  stove  and  came  to  the 
door.  "If  my  second  cousin  wasn't  occupyin'  my 
castle  just  now  I'd  ask  you  fer  a  week-end.  As  it 
is,  you're  always  welcome  to  me  humble  nest  in 
the  wilds.  At  your  service,  gen'lemen."  Placing 
his  hand  over  his  heart  he  made  a  deep  bow. 

Beany  gave  him  one  uncertain  stare,  then  turned 
and  half  ran,  half  walked  to  the  fence  followed  by 
Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub. 

Their  host  watched  them  from  the  doorway. 

"Rummy  beggars,"  he  muttered,  and  thrust  the 
memorandum  into  the  pocket  of  a  dirty  check  coat 
which  hung  beside  the  stove. 

Mr.  Doolittle  was  an  unknown  quantity  in  the 
roadmenders'  camp.  But  in  that  motley  assemblage 
of  derelicts  it  was  a  matter  of  little  interest  whence 

[214] 


AND  THE  TUB 

he  came  or  whence  he  might  be  going.  They  began 
trooping  back  now  from  the  cut,  an  odorous,  ill- 
assorted  band.  Mr.  Doolittle  hastily  removed  the 
pots  from  the  stove  and  poured  their  contents  into 
large  tins  placed  at  regular  intervals  on  the  table. 
Having  emptied  the  last  pot  he  beat  upon  it  with 
a  spoon.  "Come  and  get  it,"  he  cried  morosely. 

They  entered,  silent  and  deliberate.  Taking  their 
seats  at  the  table,  they  scraped  great  heaps  of  food 
from  the  pans  to  their  plates  and  set  to  work  with 
lowered  heads.  All  but  one  man,  who  entered  last. 
He  stopped  for  a  moment  behind  the  cook.  "That 
guy  was  around  again  this  mornin'." 

The  latter  looked  up  with  a  hard  expression  on  his 
ferret-like  face.  "What  doin'?" 

"Talkin'  to  the  boss." 

Mr.  Doolittle  swore  a  low  but  dynamic  oath. 
"He's  goin'  to  get  his  if  he  monkeys  round  here," 
he  muttered.  The  other  man  shrugged  his  shoul 
ders  and  took  a  place  at  the  table.  What  happened 
to  the  unwelcome  stranger  was  none  of  his  business. 

The  gang  finished  and  filed  out  in  silence  to  lie 
under  the  trees  and  smoke  during  the  brief  half- 
hour  before  they  were  compelled  to  resume  their 

[215] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

back-breaking  struggle  to  make  the  grade  easier  for 
automobile  engines. 

Night  came.  The  smoky  kerosene  lamps  were  lit. 
The  evening  meal  was  dispatched  with  the  same 
efficient  ferociousness  as  its  predecessor.  Fires 
sprang  up  outside  the  bunkhouses.  A  few  of  the 
men  had  pulled  off  their  shoes  and  rolled  into  their 
blankets.  At  the  end  of  the  table  near  the  stove, 
four  men  were  playing  cards  with  a  limp  deck. 

Lord  Doolittle  surveyed  this  scene  both  inside 
and  out  from  his  vantage  point  near  the  door.  He 
pressed  his  thumb  and  forefinger  against  his  silky 
black  mustache  several  times  with  a  nervous  motion. 
Once  he  seized  a  small  metal  mirror  from  behind 
the  stove  and  examined  his  features  by  the  dim 
yellow  rays  from  the  lamps. 

The  man  who  had  spoken  to  him  at  noon  arose 
from  the  ground  beside  the  fire  and  lounged  towards 
the  shack.  He  leaned  against  the  wall  near  the 
open  door  and  continued  to  puff  stolidly  on  his  pipe 
without  takjng  his  eyes  from  the  fire. 

"That  bull's  outside  again."  The  words  crawled 
from  between  his  pipe  and  the  corner  of  his  mouth 
with  no  visible  effort. 

[216] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"The  hell!"  Lord  Doolittle  hastily  placed  the 
mirror  in  his  hip  pocket. 

"Down  by  th'  fence  now  talkin'  to  th'  boss. 
There's  another  guy  with  him  this  time." 

"The  hell!" 

There  was  a  long  silence  during  which  neither 
moved  from  their  slouching  positions. 

"They're  comin'  up  this  way,"  warned  the  man  by 
the  door. 

"The  hell!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Doolittle,  this  time 
very  vehemently.  Ripping  off  his  apron  he  tossed  it 
under  the  stove  and  reached  upwards  for  the  soiled 
check  coat.  As  he  did  so  he  glanced  over  his  shoul 
der.  What  he  saw  apparently  determined  him  to 
change  his  mind,  for  he  abandoned  the  coat,  moved 
with  the  smooth  swiftness  of  a  cat  down  the  length 
of  the  bunkhouse,  and  disappeared  through  the 
door  at  the  further  end. 


[217] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 


CHAPTER  XXV 

AN  ATTIC  PHILOSOPHER 

Immediately  after  breakfast  the  following  morn 
ing  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  proceeded  to  the  Tub's 
house  to  hold  council.  The  events  of  the  day  before 
had  completely  upset  their  usual  routine.  Romance 
on  the  printed  page  was  one  matter,  but  when  it 
popped  up  in  flesh  and  blood  it  set  their  world  com 
pletely  by  the  heels. 

Not  for  one  moment  did  they  suppose  that  the 
stranger  with  the  black  mustache  might  be  other 
than  what  he  claimed.  On  the  journey  home  the 
Tub  had  dared  to  suggest  this  possibility.  He  had 
been  so  unmercifully  sat  upon,  however,  that,  to  all 
outward  appearances  at  least,  he  was  converted 
to  their  views. 

They  retired  to  a  corner  of  the  backyard  where 
they  were  hidden  from  the  house  by  the  lilac  bush. 
Here  they  began  to  rehash  the  adventure  for  the 
fiftieth  time. 

"I  wish  he'd  looked  more  like  a  gypsy/'  said 
[218] 


AND  THE  TUB 

Gangleshanks,  pounding  a  hole  in  the  turf  with 
the  heel  of  his  shoe.  "Gee  whizz,  he  didn't  even 
have  ear-rings." 

"Why  should  he?"  exclaimed  Beany  impatiently. 
"Golly  day,  I  guess  gypsies  don't  have  to  dress  in 
uniform  like  they  was  in  the  army.  Besides,"  he 
added  with  an  inspiration,  "if  he's  a  Lord  why 
should  he  look  like  a  gypsy?" 

Beany  smiled  as  if  the  matter  were  not  worth 
arguing  further  with  one  of  Gangleshanks'  mental 
caliber.  Feeling  himself  somehow  foiled  by  this 
attitude,  the  latter  turned  angrily  to  the  Tub,  who 
was  engaged  in  whittling  away  the  toe  of  his  shoe. 

"Why  don't  you  say  somethin'?"  he  asked  in  an 
impatient  voice.  "How's  a  fellow  goin'  to  know 
anythin'  if  you  don't  say  somethin'?" 

The  Tub  turned  a  round,  surprised  face  toward 
his  questioner. 

"I  du-du-don't  think  he's  a  Lu-lu-lu-lord  at  all," 
he  declared  and  began  to  sidle  out  of  reach  along 
the  grass. 

"Oh,  don't  you?  You're  smart,  aren't  you?'* 
Gangleshanks  shot  out  a  detaining  hand  which 
caught  the  Tub  by  the  ankle.  "Sit  on  his  head, 
will  you,  Beany?  He's  gettin'  too  darn  fresh." 

[219] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS. 

"Cu-cu-cut  it " 

"Sst,  less  noise,"  said  a  voice. 

Lord  Doolittle  was  resting  his  chin  on  the  top  of 
the  fence  behind  them. 

"Sst,"  he  cautioned  once  more.  Then,  nodding 
pleasantly,  he  climbed  over  and  sat  down  on  the 
grass.  He  was  still  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  minus  the 
apron.  His  clothes  were  covered  with  bits  of  grass 
and  hay.  His  pale  jaws  were  in  need  of  a  shave. 
In  spite  of  his  reassuring  smile,  the  boys  drew  away 
fearfully. 

"Morning"  said  Lord  Doolittle,  fishing  through 
his  pockets  for  a  cigarette  butt.  "Lost  your  address. 
Hard  time  findin'  you.  Any  of  you  gen'lemen  hap 
pen  to  have  a  cigarette  on  you?  Course  not.  Bad 
habit.  Spoils  the  breath;  stains  the  teeth.  Fathers 
smoke  ?" 

"The  Tub's  does,"  volunteered  Beany,  finding  his 
voice. 

"Fair  enough.  What's  good  enough  fer  him  is 
good  enough  fer  me.  Run  into  th'  house,  my  little 
lad,  an'  borrow  a  handful  of  cigarettes.  Needn't  say 
I'm  here.  Just  an  informal  call.  An'  while  you're 
passin'  through  the  kitchen  if  you'd  pick  up  a  little 
somethin'  fer  th'  inner  man.  Light  breakfast  this 

[220] 


AND  THE  TUB 

mornin'.  Mostly  hay.  Poor  diet,  hay."  He  turned 
to  Beany  as  if  for  confirmation. 

"Very,"  murmured  Beany.  His  heart  was  still 
pounding  unreasonably. 

The  Tub,  however,  resented  being  addressed  as 
"my  little  lad."  He  did  not  stir. 

"Go  an'  get  some  cigarettes,"  ordered  Gangle- 
shanks. 

"I  don't  know  where  they  are." 

"You  better  find  out."  Gangleshanks  drew  up  his 
knees  as  if  about  to  rise.  The  Tub  changed  his  mind. 

"Oh,  all  ru-ru-right,"  he  sulked.  "I  don't  see  why 
I  always  du-du-do  the  dirty  work.  If  there's  any 
dirty  work  to  be  du-du-done  it's  me." 

Noting  that  Gangleshanks  was  half  on  his  feet, 
however,  he  didn't  wait  to  continue  the  argument, 
but  disappeared  around  the  lilac  bush  toward  the 
house. 

"Nice  chap,"  commented  Lord  Doolittle.  "Oblig 
ing.  Hate  to  ask  him.  Rather  awkward  position, 
though.  Second  cousin  after  me  again."  He  made 
a  suggestive  motion  with  his  forefinger  across  his 
Adam's  apple  which  sent  cold  prickles  down  his 
auditors'  spines. 

"Disagreeable  fellow,  second  cousin.  Just  as  soon 
[221] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

kill  a  man  as  step  on  a  bug.  Have  to  lie  low  fer 
few  days.  Let  you  take  me  in  if  you  will.  Awfully 
good  of  you.  Reward  some  day.  Hide  fer  a  little 
while.  Not  a  word  to  parents.  Nobody."  Once 
more  he  made  the  disagreeable  pantomime  of  cutting 
his  throat  with  his  forefinger.  "Got  any  place  you 
can  put  me?  Barn,  outhouse,  cellar,  attic?  Not 
fussy  about  quarters." 

The  boys  looked  at  one  another  in  dismay.  The 
stranger's  fortunes  were  closing  in  upon  their  private 
lives  with  a  disagreeable  intimacy.  They  shook 
their  heads. 

"Come,  come!"  cried  Lord  Doolittle  impatiently, 
"this  won't  do  at  all.  Got  to  take  me.  Great  re 
ward  some  day.  Got  to  take  me  now,  though.  How 
about  stout  friend?" 

Suddenly  Beany  had  an  idea.  The  top  floor  of 
the  Tub's  house  was  divided  into  three  servants' 
rooms  with  a  garret  in  the  rear.  In  this  garret 
Mr.  Hemingway  kept  his  collection  of  shotguns,  fish 
ing  tackle  and  other  camping  paraphernalia,  which 
he  seldom  used  now,  but  which  he  overhauled  with 
loving  care  each  winter.  In  order  to  insure  these 
treasures  from  the  curious  handling  of  his  son's 
friends  he  had  placed  a  strong  padlock  on  the 

[222] 


AND  THE  TUB 

door.  It  was  understood  that  the  attic  was  taboo. 
The  key  lay  in  the  library  desk.  Beany  knew  this, 
for  the  Tub  had  once  showed  it  to  him  in  an  unfor 
tunate  moment  of  confidence. 

This  of  all  places  should  be  a  safe  retreat  for 
their  unwelcome  guest.  No  one  was  ever  allowed 
to  enter  but  Mr.  Hemingway,  and  he  only  made 
use  of  that  privilege  during  the  winter  months. 
Beany  outlined  his  plans  to  Gangleshanks. 

"Just  th'  thing,"  cried  Lord  Doolittle  with  en 
thusiasm.  "Sportsman's  den.  Quiet  an'  retired. 
Couldn't  be  better." 

"Suppose  the  Tub  won't  open  it,"  suggested 
Gangleshanks. 

"We'll  make  him."     Beany's  jaw  was  set. 

The  Tub  returned  with  a  handful  of  cigarettes,  a 
half  loaf  of  bread  and  several  slices  of  cold  bacon. 
The  Duke  put  the  cigarettes  on  the  grass  by  his 
side  and  fell  upon  the  food  like  a  starved  wolf. 
Beany  explained  the  situation  to  the  Tub. 

"In  my  house!"  he  exclaimed,  as  Lady  Macbeth 
had  done  under  similar  circumstances.  "Nu-nu- 
nuthin'  doin'."  He  started  to  back  away  from  the 
inevitable,  but  Beany  had  anticipated  the  movement. 
He  was  seized  firmly  by  the  coat  until  Gangleshanks 

[223] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

had  a  chance  to  come  up  from  behind  and  pin  back 
his  arms. 

Together  they  laid  him,  kicking  and  struggling, 
on  the  grass.  Beany  sat  on  his  stomach  and  worked 
his  ribs  like  a  harpist,  while  Gangleshanks  bore  down 
firmly  on  his  mouth  with  a  grimy  hand.  The  Duke 
watched  the  proceedings  with  approval.  The  Tub 
became  a  writhing,  inarticulate  bundle  from  which 
emerged  smothered  howls. 

"Will  you  do  it?" 

"Nu-nu-no.  Ouch.  Du-du-don't.  I'll  tell  fu-fu- 

father.  I'll "  But  Gangleshanks'  hand  shut  off 

the  rest.  "I  guess  we'll  have  to  give  him  a  knuckle 
rub,"  he  said,  regretfully.  Beany  nodded  and 
Gangleshanks  began  a  frenzied  massaging  of  the 
Tub's  scalp  with  the  knuckles  of  his  tightly  closed 
fist. 

The  hand  over  the  Tub's  mouth  was  lifted.  "Oh, 
ouch,  I'll  'e  'ood.  Cut  it  out.  Oh — Lu-lu-lord — 
oh." 

"Will  you  open  that  door?" 

"Yu-yu-yes,  anything.     Oh,  ouch." 

The  torture  stopped.  The  Tub  rose  sullenly  to 
his  feet.  "I'll  get  even  with  you  fu-fu-fu-fellows 

[224] 


AND  THE  TUB 

yet,"  he  muttered.  They  allowed  him  this  small 
satisfaction  without  contradiction. 

"Very  kind,"  said  Lord  Doolittle,  lighting  one  of 
the  cigarettes.  "Kind,  I'm  sure.  Southern  hospi 
tality.  When  will  the  room  be  ready,  my  little 
lad?" 

"I'm  not  your  little  lad,"  sulked  the  Tub. 

"True,  true,"  replied  the  amiable  visitor.  "My 
misfortune,  but  true.  But  when  do  you  think  I  can 
occupy  the  apartment  without  being — well — er — 
frankly,  without  being  seen?" 

All  eyes  were  turned  on  the  Tub.  The  spotlight 
restored  to  him  a  portion  of  his  dignity. 

"Mu-mu-mother's  goin'  out  this  afternoon  and  it's 
the  cu-cu-cook's  day  out,"  he  said. 

"Good,"  replied  the  Duke  lightly.  "I  will  pre 
pare  to  go  to  my  rooms  when  your  mother  an'  the 
cuckoo-cook,  which  you  refer  to,  have  departed.  In 
the  meanwhile,  a  nap.  Unpleasant  night.  Slept 
poorly."  So  saying,  the  Duke  stretched  himself  out 
on  the  grass,  closed  his  eyes  and  proceeded  to  fall 
asleep  almost  instantly. 

They  tiptoed  away  and  sat  down  on  the  back 
steps  to  talk.  The  morning  was  interminable.  At 
-half-hour  intervals  they  returned  to  peer  at  his 

[225] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Lordship  around  the  corner  of  the  lilac  bush.     He 
slept  on,  showing  no  signs  of  waking. 

Lunch  time  came.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  went 
home,  their  hearts  heavy  with  misgivings.  When 
they  returned  the  Duke  was  still  asleep.  They  took 
up  their  post  in  front  of  the  house  where  they  could 
witness  the  departure  of  Mrs.  Hemingway  and  the 
cook.  It  seemed  as  if  they  were  never  going. 
Finally  Mrs.  Hemingway  left  after  asking  intermin 
able  questions  about  Beany's  family.  She  was  fol 
lowed  shortly  after  by  the  cook.  They  had  the 
house  to  themselves. 

The  key  was  produced.  They  ascended  to  the 
third  floor.  With  one  hand  on  the  padlock,  the  Tub 
paused. 

"Yu-yu-you  fellows  made  me  do  this,"  he  warned. 

"Who  made  you?"  cried  Gangleshanks  impa 
tiently.  "Golly  day,  I  never  saw  such  an  old  woman ! 
Open  the  door." 

They  removed  the  padlock  and  entered.  The 
attic  was  a  large,  unplastered  room  with  two  dormer 
windows  looking  out  over  the  backyard.  On  one 
side  was  a  gun  rack.  Piled  in  the  corners  were 
trunks  and  boxes  from  which  protruded  fishing 
tackle,  boots,  brown  paper  bundles;  the  accumula- 

[226] 


AND  THE  TUB 

tion  of  a  dozen  camping  trips.  Over  all  lay  a  thick 
powder  of  dust. 

Behind  some  trunks  they  discovered  an  old  camp 
mattress.  From  the  beds  downstairs  they  removed 
two  blankets  and  a  pair  of  sheets.  The  beds  were 
carefully  arranged  afterwards  so  that  they  showed 
no  signs  of  the  theft.  The  Tub  contributed  a  pillow 
from  his  own  bed,  but  with  bad  grace. 

Beany  entered  into  these  novel  furnishing  ar 
rangements  with  gusto.  No  comfort  of  Mr.  Doo- 
little's  was  overlooked  by  his  active  mind.  From 
the  sideboard  he  borrowed  a  set  of  eating  utensils; 
from  the  pantry  a  pile  of  dishes;  a  towel  from 
the  bathroom  and  a  water  pitcher  and  soap  from 
the  cook.  The  library  table  furnished  the  latest 
magazines  which  were  laid  in  an  orderly  pile  on 
the  floor  by  the  improvised  bed. 

While  Beany  was  adding  a  few  finishing  touches 
Gangleshanks  fussed  over  one  of  the  trunks. 

"Look!"  he  exclaimed. 

He  held  up  a  reel  of  heavy  fish  line  with  a  large 
iron  hook  attached  to  the  end. 

"What's  that  for?" 

Gangleshanks  walked  to  the  window,  raised  it  on 
its  rusty  weights,  and  slowly  paid  out  the  line.  He 

[227] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

let  it  drop  until  it  was  on  a  level  with  the  kitchen 
window  and  then  wound  it  in  with  a  self-satisfied  ex 
pression. 

"Wonderful,"  cried  Beany  with  rare  admiration. 
"Golly  day,  we  could  have  pulled  all  this  stuff  up 
if  I'd  thought  of  it  earlier.  Let's  get  Mr.  Doolittle 
an'  show  him." 

The  guest  was  delighted.  "Snug  as  a  bug,"  he 
declared  enthusiastically.  "Much  needed  rest."  He 
inspected  the  fish  line  with  approval.  He  also 
tested  the  tin  gutters  with  his  arm.  "Well-made 
house,"  he  praised,  drawing  in  his  head.  "Don't 
lock  door  when  you  go  out.  Case  of  fire,  you  know. 
Say  good-night  now.  Ring  if  I  want  anything."  He 
sat  down  on  the  mattress  and  began  to  unlace  his 
shoes. 

"Are  you  goin'  to  bed?"  asked  Beany  in  some  sur 
prise. 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  Duke,  allowing  one 
muddy  shoe  to  fall  on  the  white  sheet.  "When  not 
necessary  to  be  awake,  be  asleep.  My  motto." 
Having  removed  his  shoes  he  started  to  slide  be 
tween  the  sheets. 

"Wait!"  Beany  disappeared  down  the  stairs. 
A  few  moments  later  there  was  a  whistle  from  be- 

[228] 


AND  THE  TUB 

low.  Gangleshanks  looked  out  cautiously  and  saw 
Beany's  head  sticking  through  the  Tub's  bedroom 
window  directly  underneath.  "Let  down  the  line," 
he  called  in  a  stage  whisper.  A  moment  later 
Gangleshanks  brought  up  a  most  remarkable  fish 
bearing  a  curious  resemblance  to  Mr.  Hemingway's 
best  silk  pajamas. 


[229] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  SPIRIT  WORLD 

"Funny  where  all  the  magazines  are  gone,"  ex 
claimed  Mr.  Hemingway  half  to  himself.  "Did 
you  put  them  anywhere,  Agnes?" 

Mrs.  Hemingway  looked  up  from  her  paper. 
"What  are  you  looking  for,  Jim?" 

"The  magazines.  I  was  reading  an  article  in 
one  of  them." 

"Then  it's  just  where  you  dropped  it."  His  wife 
resumed  her  reading  with  the  calm  of  one  accus 
tomed  to  such  disappearances. 

But  the  magazines  were  not  to  be  found.  Gradu 
ally  Mrs.  Hemingway  was  drawn  into  the  hunt,  then 
Norah.  Dinner  in  consequence  was  a  fretful  meal. 
The  Tub  talked  feverishly.  Once  or  twice  he  caught 
his  father's  eye  looking  at  him  with  suspicion.  As 
soon  as  dessert  was  finished  he  seized  his  cap  and 
hurried  from  the  house,  mumbling  excuses. 

Shortly  afterward  Norah  appeared  at  the  door 

[230] 


AND  THE  TUB 

of  the  living-room.  Her  face  wore  a  troubled 
expression. 

"Sure,  mum,  there's  somethin'  gone  from  every 
bed  in  th'  house,"  she  announced,  twisting  her  apron 
nervously. 

"Something  gone?  What  do  you  mean,  Norah?" 
The  missing  magazines  flashed  through  Mrs.  Hem 
ingway's  mind. 

"I  was  turnin'  down  the  beds,  mum,  an'  I  noticed 
there  was  only  one  blanket  on  yourn  an'  Mr.  Hem- 
in'way's.  An'  then  when  I  come  to  Mr.  Alexander's 
bed  there  was  no  pillow.  An'  then  I  went  in  the 
spare  room  to  look,  an'  th'  sheets  was  both  gone 
an'  th'  bed  fixed  back  as  well  as  you  please.  There's 
some  deviltry  under  it  all  an' " 

Mr.  Hemingway  was  on  his  feet.  "Those  boys  !" 
he  exclaimed. 

"Beggin'  your  pardon,  sir,  but  I  don't  think  the 
boys  could  'a  been  in  this  'cause  Mr.  Alexander's 
pillow  is  gone,  too,  an'  the  likes  of  they  couldn't 
fix  up  a  bed  th'  way  this  was  done." 

"Well,  if  it  wasn't  the  boys  who  in  heaven's  name 
do  you  think  it  was?"  asked  Mr.  Hemingway  im 
patiently.  "Who  do  you  think  is  going  to  come  in 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

and  take  something  off  every  bed  and  then  make 
them  up  again — spooks?" 

"Bless  us,  sir,  don't  talk  about  'em."  Norah 
backed  away  from  the  door  fearfully  and  followed 
Mrs.  Hemingway  up  the  front  stairs  to  the  bed 
rooms. 

An  hour  later  a  careful  checking-up  had  revealed 
the  additional  loss  of  one  water  pitcher,  six  dishes 
and  five  pieces  of  silver.  Conjectures  ran  in  all 
directions,  but  none  led  to  a  rational  solution  of 
the  mystery. 

The  Tub,  returning  casually,  heard  the  story  in 
detail.  He  made  no  comment,  but  listened  to  his 
mother's  account  with  scared  eyes. 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  this,  do  you?" 
Mr.  Hemingway's  voice  threatened. 

The  Tub's  lip  trembled.  Big  tears  gathered  in 
the  corners  of  his  eyes  and  spilt  down  his  cheeks. 
The  enormity  of  his  crime  descended  upon  him  like 
a  shroud.  He  felt  his  mother's  protecting  arm 
about  his  neck. 

"Jim,  how  can  you  talk  to  Aleck  like  that?  You 
act  as  if  he  was  a  common  thief.  I  don't  under 
stand  you  sometimes."  She  turned  to  the  Tub  and 
addressed  him  by  his  old  baby,  pet  name.  "Never 

[232] 


AND  THE  TUB 

mind,  Allykins,  come  upstairs  and  I'll  read  to  you 
while  you're  getting  undressed." 

At  this  Allykins  broke  down  completely  and  was 
led  from  the  room  uttering  dismal  sobs.  Mr.  Hem 
ingway,  after  staring  unhappily  at  the  vacant  door 
way  for  a  few  moments,  resumed  his  newspaper. 

When  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  approached  the 
Tub's  house  the  following  morning  they  discovered 
him  waiting  for  them  on  the  front  steps.  With  tears 
in  his  voice  he  told  them  of  what  had  happened. 
Both  looked  relieved. 

"Gee  whizz.  Is  that  all?  What  are  you  stewin' 
about?" 

They  retired  to  the  backyard  where  they  could 
watch  the  attic  windows.  Suddenly  Gangleshanks 
nudged  Beany.  They  looked  up.  The  Duke  was 
standing  at  the  window  making  violent  motions  with 
his  forefinger  in  the  direction  of  his  mouth. 

They  turned  to  one  another  in  dismay.  This  was 
a  detail  which  had  been  completely  forgotten,  since 
they  had  laid  the  fish  line  on  the  floor  the  day  be 
fore.  Through  the  open  door  of  the  kitchen  came 
the  sound  of  Norah's  voice  humming  a  tune  over 
the  breakfast  dishes.  Their  guest's  face  glared  at 
them  menacingly  from  the  window.  Then  they  saw 

[233] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

the  end  of  the  fish  line  descend  over  the  sill  until  it 
was  almost  on  a  level  with  the  pantry. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do?"  asked  Gangleshanks, 
turning  to  the  Tub  in  despair.  The  latter  only 
shrugged  his  shoulders  sullenly.  Gangleshanks 
turned  to  Beany.  "We  can't  do  anything  while 
she's  in  there,"  he  complained,  pointing  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  cheery  voice. 

Beany's  face  registered  thought.  "I  know. 
Gangleshanks,  you  go  round  to  the  front  door  and 
ring  the  bell.  As  soon  as  she  goes  to  answer  it  I'll 
get  in  the  pantry.  The  Tub  can  stay  here  and  tell 
when  to  let  down  the  hook." 

"But  what'll  I  say  when  she  comes  to  the  door?" 

"Golly  day,  can't  you  do  anythin'  fer  yourself? 
Don't  say.  Hide." 

Gangleshanks  looked  at  him  with  respect.  "Gee 
whizz,  I  wish  I  could  think  up  things  like  you!" 

The  singing  stopped  as  the  bell  over  the  kitchen 
sink  gave  a  long,  impatient  ring.  "Lord  save  us," 
muttered  Norah,  reaching  into  the  broom  closet 
for  her  white  apron.  She  tied  it  over  her  working 
clothes  and  hurried  out  of  the  room. 

Beany  was  in  the  kitchen  almost  before  she  was 
out  of  it.  By  the  stove  lay  a  market  basket  half 

[234] 


AND  THE  TUB 

filled  with  clothespins.  Without  stopping  to  empty 
them  he  seized  the  basket  and  rushed  into  the  pantry. 
There  was  no  time  to  pick  and  choose.  Opening 
the  ice-box  door  he  pulled  out  a  dish  of  cold  boiled 
potatoes,  a  half-eaten  leg  of  lamb,  a  bowl  of  soup 
stock,  three  bottles  of  ginger  ale  and  a  bowl  of 
mayonnaise.  These  all  went  into  the  basket.  He 
heard  the  muffled  sound  of  the  front  door  shutting. 
Norah  would  be  back  in  another  minute. 

Putting  the  handle  of  the  basket  over  the  point 
of  the  hook  he  climbed  softly  out  of  the  window 
after  it  and  dropped  down  on  the  grass  beside  the 
Tub.  Full  of  their  guilt  they  sneaked  around  the 
corner  of  the  house  furthest  from  the  kitchen  door. 

The  basket  jerked  clumsily  upward.  Midway  in 
its  ascent  it  caught  under  the  roof  of  the  back  porch, 
and  tilted  perilously.  Through  its  bottom  descended 
a  thin  trickle  of  soup  stock.  Then,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief,  they  saw  it  disappear.  Norah's  head  pro 
truded  from  the  kitchen  door.  They  fled  in  a  panic 
to  the  front  of  the  house. 

Mrs.  Hemingway  returned  from  a  morning  of 
shopping  and  let  herself  in  at  the  front  door.  As 
the  key  clicked  in  the  lock  Norah  appeared  from 
the  back  hall. 

[235] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"I'm  leavin',  mum,"  she  announced.  There  was 
a  wild  light  in  her  eyes. 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  now?" 

"There's  an  evil  eye  on  this  house,  mum,  that 
what's  th'  matter  with  it."  Norah  followed  her  em 
ployer  into  the  living-room.  "It's  the  divil  himself 
is  rompin'  around,  ringin'  door  bells  an'  makin' 
food  fly  out  thr window  past  me  very  eyes." 

"Norah,  what  are  you  talking  about?" 

"Just  what  I'm  a-tellin'  ye,  mum.  Door  bells 
ringin'  an'  none  to  ring  'em.  Food  disappearin'  out 
of  the  ice-box  an'  me  standin'  in  front  of  it.  An' 
last  night  I  heard  the  divil  snarlin'  an'  chokin'  out 
side  me  room."  At  the  memory  a  tremor  passed 
over  her  stout  frame. 

"Nonsense."  Mrs.  Hemingway  tried  to  make 
her  voice  sound  contemptuous,  yet  as  she  turned  to 
look  out  of  the  window,  she  felt  creepy.  The  boys 
were  sitting  on  the  front  steps  discussing  some  new 
game.  The  sight  of  their  innocent  faces  reassured 
her. 

"I'm  leavin'  this  afternoon,  mum.  I  wouldn't  stay 
under  this  roof  another  night  fer  all  the  money 
you've  got." 

[236] 


AND  THE  TUB 

Having  delivered  this  decision  Norah  flounced 
back  to  her  kitchen. 

A  hot  morning  blended  into  a  hotter  afternoon. 
Beany,  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  sat  behind  the 
lilac  bush  and  discussed  the  situation  forward  and 
backward,  without  discovering  an  outlet.  They 
were  afraid  to  remain  staring  at  the  attic  window. 
On  the  other  hand  they  could  not  leave  its  baleful 
influence  in  order  to  take  up  the  more  ordinary 
pursuits  of  life. 

A  man  appeared  in  the  driveway.  He  walked 
toward  the  barn,  stopped,  looked  at  the  house,  at 
the  barn,  at  the  clothes  flapping  on  the  line,  and 
finally  at  the  lilac  bush.  Here  he  perceived  three 
heads  watching  him  curiously.  Giving  his  hat  an 
additional  tilt  he  sauntered  toward  them.  The 
boys  continued  to  stare.  If  this  was  another  Noble 
seeking  shelter  against  his  relatives  he  would  receive 
little  hospitality. 

"Youse  kids  live  here?"  He  indicated  the  house 
with  an  unlaundered  thumb. 

"He  does."  Beany  pointed  to  the  unhappy  Tub. 
"We  don't." 

"M'm'm."  The  stranger  made  a  queer  sound 
with  his  lips  as  if  trying  to  imitate  a  cornet.  From 

[237] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

his  pocket  he  pulled  a  small  scrap  of  brown  wrap 
ping  paper  which  he  studied,  then  looked  at  the 
house  to  corroborate  what  he  found  there. 

"This  is  that,  ain't  it?"  he  asked  enigmatically 
showing  the  paper  to  the  Tub.  Beany  and  Gangle- 
shanks  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  their  eyes 
grew  wide.  It  was  the  paper  on  which  Lord  Doo- 
little  had  noted  the  Tub's  address.  They  drew 
away  from  the  stranger,  never  taking  their  eyes  from 
his  face,  like  small  animals  hypnotized  by  a  snake. 
It  occurred  to  them  all  simultaneously  that  this  must 
be  the  man  who  had  caused  the  Duke  to  make  those 
unpleasant  motions  with  his  forefinger.  The  stranger 
appeared  unconscious  of  the  silent  panic  which  he 
had  created. 

"This  is  that,  ain't  it?"  he  repeated,  shaking  the 
paper  in  order  to  call  it  to  their  attention.  He  put 
his  question  directly  to  the  Tub. 

' '  Yu-y  u-yu-y  u ' ' 

"Whistle,"  recommended  the  stranger.  "You 
ain't  seen  a  slick  lookin'  guy  with  black  hair,  have 
you?" 

The  Tub  gave  him  a  miserable  stare  and  shook 
his  head.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  breathed  easier. 
The  stranger  glanced  sharply  from  one  to  the  other. 

[238] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"What's  the  matter  with  youse  kids?"  he  asked 
impatiently.  "I  ain't  goin'  to  eat  youse.  Sure  you 
ain't  seen  a  fellow  what  looks  like  a  dago  hangin' 
around?" 

Once  more  they  shook  their  heads  without  re 
plying. 

"Solid  ivory,"  muttered  the  stranger,  discouraged, 
He  straightened  his  back  to  look  about. 

At  this  moment  Norah  appeared  on  the  back 
porch.  She  had  on  her  street  clothes  and  in  her 
hand  was  a  wicker  suitcase.  The  stranger  left  the 
boys  and  walked  towards  her. 

They  watched  him  lift  his  hat  as  he  approached. 
A  long  conversation  followed.  The  two  walked  out 
of  the  driveway  side  by  side. 

"Who  do  you  s'pose  'twas?"  asked  the  Tub  as 
they  disappeared  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

"The  man  he's  runnin'  away  from,  I  s'pose." 

"Gee  whizz,  what  are  we  goin'  to  do  now?" 

"I  know  one  thing  I'm  goin'  to  do.  I'm  goin  to 
get  out  of  here  before  he  comes  back." 

"Me,  too,"  said  Gangleshanks  decidedly. 

"An'  lu-lu-leave  me  to  do  the  du-du-du-dirty 
work."  The  Tub's  voice  denoted  rising  indignation. 

[239] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"It's  your  house,  ain't  it?"  Beany  had  one  foot 
over  the  fence. 

The  Tub  watched  the  spot  where  they  had  dis 
appeared  for  some  moments,  then  hurled  himself 
after  them  with  unbelievable  speed  for  one  of  his 
build. 


[240] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

IN  THE  NIGHT 

Norah's  sudden  departure  had  been  the  final  straw 
to  break  down  Mr.  Hemingway's  judicial  calm.  He 
stormed  up  and  down  the  living-room  denouncing 
cooks,  superstition,  ignorance  and  a  dozen  other 
evils  which,  he  declared,  were  threatening  civiliza 
tion. 

Supper,  prepared  and  served  by  Mrs.  Heming 
way,  was  a  silent  meal.  The  atmosphere  was 
charged  with  high  explosive  and  the  Tub,  feeling 
that  any  word  of  his  might  be  the  spark  to  set  it 
off,  maintained  a  discreet  silence.  Even  this  failed 
to  protect  him,  however,  from  the  master's  wrath. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Alexander,"  he  ex 
claimed  impatiently  as  the  gloomy  feast  came  to  a 
close  and  Mrs.  Hemingway  rose  to  collect  the 
dishes.  He  addressed  the  remark  to  his  wife  as 
if  the  Tub  were  a  piece  of  machinery  which  appeared 
to  be  out  of  order. 

[241] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Goodness,  I  don't  know,"  she  replied  crossly. 
"Why  don't  you  ask  him?" 

"Because  he's  a  fool."  Mr.  Hemingway 
stamped  into  the  living-room  in  search  of  a  cigar. 

In  a  daze  the  Tub  slid  out  of  his  chair  and  wan 
dered  into  trie  kitchen.  After  watching  his  mother 
wash  the  dinner  dishes  for  several  moments  he  crept 
up  the  back  stairs  to  his  room. 

Alone  on  the  dimly  lighted  second  floor  he  was 
seized  with  a  panic.  He  tore  off  his  clothes  and 
jumped  into  bed,  leaving  the  light  burning.  For 
ages  he  lay  with  his  face  buried  in  the  crack  between 
the  two  pillows,  populating  the  room  behind  him 
with  a  thousand  eerie  shapes;  hearing  a  thousand 
sneaking  footsteps. 

To  his  immense  relief  he  finally  heard  his  mother 
turn  out  the  lights  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  He 
pretended  to  be  asleep.  She  uttered  a  low  exclama 
tion  as  she  entered  his  room  and  discovered  the 
burning  light.  For  a  moment  he  felt  her  presence 
above  him  accompanied  by  a  delicious  sense  of  pro 
tection  and  peace.  Then  the  light  went  out.  He 
heard  her  raise  the  window,  and  draw  the  door 
half  shut.  A  moment  later  the  soft  click  of  her 

[242] 


AND  THE  TUB 

own  bedroom  door  warned  him  that  he  was  alone 
with  the  night. 

Downstairs  the  clock  struck  ten-thirty.  Then 
eleven  echoed  by  another  clock  somewhere  across 
the  city.  His  position  became  cramped,  but  he  did 
not  dare  to  move.  Half-past  eleven.  At  twelve  he 
took  advantage  of  the  commotion  made  by  the 
striking  clocks  to  turn  over. 

Tick,  tock,  tick,  tock.  He  could  hear  the  grand 
father  clock  in  the  hall  below  and  admired  the 
spirit  which  enabled  it  to  stand  there,  surrounded 
by  dark  enemies,  and  proclaim  itself  so  valiantly. 
Tick-a-tick-a-tick-a  answered  the  small  alarm  clock 
on  his  bureau. 

The  clocks  had  begun  to  blend  together  into  a 
dream  when  a  creak  from  the  stairs  froze  him  once 
more  into  rigidity. 

The  Tub  knew  the  location  of  that  stair.  It  was 
the  second  above  the  landing.  He  knew  the  idiosyn 
crasies  of  every  board  in  the  staircase,  having  made 
a  study  of  them  for  political  purposes.  He  remem 
bered  another  place  in  the  second  stair  below  the 
landing  and  listened. 

"Crack!" 

That  was  it.  His  hair  stirred  uneasily  at  its 
[243] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

roots.  Someone  was  cautiously  and  slowly  descend 
ing  the  front  stairs. 

Below,  a  long  patch  of  dim  light  from  a  street 
lamp  fell  across  the  living-room  floor.  It  was  mo 
mentarily  blotted  out  by  a  dark  shape,  which  moved, 
silent  and  swift,  across  it.  Then  from  out  of  the 
shadows  beside  the  window  emerged  a  head.  The 
curtain  was  drawn  back.  The  head  remained  mo 
tionless  for  several  moments  gazing  into  the  de 
serted  street. 

An  electric  street  lamp  shed  a  round  patch  of 
light  on  the  pavement  and  grass  about  it.  Its  rays 
were  softly  reflected  by  the  leaves  of  the  trees  above. 
The  street  was  apparently  empty.  Then  through 
the  gloom  on  the  left  shone  a  tiny  pinpoint  glow.  A 
moment  later  a  faint  cloud  of  smoke  floated  across 
the  lamp-lit  area. 

The  watching  head  at  the  window  disappeared. 

Very  faintly  came  the  scraping  of  a  chain  bolt  be 
ing  withdrawn  from  its  socket.  Then  utter  silence 
once  more. 

Tick-tock,  tick-tock,  from  the  grandfather  clock. 
Tick-a-tick-a-tick-a-tick-a  from  the  alarm.  The 
Tub  lay  in  the  same  position,  his  hands  clenched  and 
moist.  And  yet  in  his  inmost  conscience  he  did  not 

[244] 


AND  THE  TUB 

believe  that  this  was  more  than  a  figment  of  his 
own  imagination.  His  sense  of  fear  was  already 
too  overtaxed  to  permit  of  anything  more  dreadful. 

"Crack!" 

It  was  the  second  stair  below  the  landing. 

"Crack!" 

It  was  the  first  stair  above  it.  Then,  after  a 
lapse  of  several  moments,  he  became  aware  that 
his  door  was  opening  slowly.  He  knew  the  harsh 
sound  of  the  bottom  panel  scraping  over  the  rug. 

The  noise  of  the  opening  door  stopped.  Then, 
just  as  slowly  and  carefully,  he  heard  it  shut  again. 
There  was  someone  in  the  room.  He  screwed  his 
eyes  together  and  tried  to  breathe  naturally.  A 
light  step  approached  the  bed.  Someone  was  stand 
ing  over  him. 

Then  he  felt  the  bed  clothes  move.  The  warm 
night  breeze  blew  upon  his  damp,  trembling  body. 
He  opened  his  eyes  slowly  and  saw  a  dimly  familiar 
shape  beside  his  bed. 

"Now  do  as  I  tell  you  an'  you're  all  right.  Do 
anything  else  an'  you're  all  wrong.  See  this."  The 
Tub  shrank  away  from  a  black  object  which  he  rec 
ognized  as  a  revolver.  The  ends  of  Lord  Doolittle's 
mustache  raised  slightly  as  if  he  were  smiling.  "Do 

[245] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

as  I  tell  you.    Live  to  be  an  old  man,"  he  reassured. 

The  Tub  waited,  speechless,  for  his  command. 
Lord  Doolittle  crossed  the  room  noiselessly  and 
stood  for  a  moment  looking  out  over  the  tin  roof 
of  the  back  porch  and  across  the  yard.  As  he  looked 
a  black  figure  moved  deeper  into  the  shadows  of  the 
barn  and  was  swallowed  up.  Lord  Doolittle  nodded 
and  returned  to  the  bed. 

"When  I  say  the  word,"  he  whispered,  empha 
sizing  his  directions  by  tapping  the  handle  of  the 
revolver  on  the  Tub's  trembling  knee,  "you  climb 
out  that  window  onto  the  roof.  When  you're  there, 
walk  around  till  you  count  fifteen.  Then  you're  to 
start  yellin'  an'  keep  on  yellin'  till  somebody  stops 
you." 

The  Tub  was  dumb.  Mr.  Doolittle  repeated  his 
instructions  carefully.  "Y'  understand?"  he  asked 
threateningly.  The  Tub  nodded.  He  couldn't  have 
answered  had  his  life  depended  upon  it. 

"All  right,  get  to  the  window,  an'  remember,  if 
you  don't  do  it  right  I'm  behind  you." 

The  Tub  stood  by  the  window  looking  out  over 
the  little  tin  roof.  Lord  Doolittle  watched  him  for 
a  moment,  then  opened  the  door  into  the  hall  with 
delicate  care.  Reaching  into  the  darkness  he  picked 

[246] 


AND  THE  TUB 

up  a  heavy  suitcase  which  he  had  apparently  left 
there  upon  his  entrance. 

"All  right,"  he  whispered.     "Go  to  it." 

Scarcely  knowing  what  he  was  about  the  Tub 
threw  one  pajamaed  leg  over  the  window  sill  and 
crawled  out  onto  the  roof.  He  was  conscious  of 
the  cold  tin  underneath  his  feet. 

His  Lordship  crept  down  the  front  stairs  once 
more.  With  one  hand  on  the  knob  of  the  front 
door  he  stood  looking  through  the  narrow  glass 
window  at  the  side. 

Suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  sound  of 
a  police  whistle  blown  in  the  rear  of  the  house.  A 
man  came  running  from  the  shadows  of  the  trees 
in  front  and  hurried  down  the  drive.  Then,  from 
the  floor  above  echoed  a  series  of  wild  shrieks  con 
taining  all  the  pent-up  emotion  of  a  tortured  night. 

The  Duke  nodded  approvingly.  Opening  the 
front  door  he  walked  boldly  out  onto  the  porch, 
down  the  steps,  and  away  into  the  darkness. 

"And  one  of  the  strangest  things  about  the  whole 
affair,"  said  Mr.  Hemingway,  going  over  the  details 
the  following  evening  for  the  benefit  of  the  Flem 
ings,  "was  that  Alexander  should  go  out  of  his  head 

[247] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

at  just  the  moment  when  the  thief  was  trying  to 
escape.  He  won't  say  a  word  about  it.  I  don't 
think  the  whole  affair  is  very  clear  in  his  mind.  The 
doctor  is  keeping  him  in  bed  for  a  few  days,  giving 
him  some  sort  of  a  tonic.  Tomorrow  there's  a 
woman  coming  to  give  him  oil  rubs.  Dr.  Lake  says 
they're  excellent  in  cases  like  this." 

"Poor  little  fellow,"  murmured  Mrs.  Fleming 
sympathetically.  "And  you  say  this  person  had  been 
living  in  the  attic  for  some  time?" 

"Apparently.  He'd  moved  everything  in  the 
house  up  there  except  the  piano.  And  that's  another 
thing  we  can't  understand.  I  keep  the  attic  door 
padlocked  and  the  key  in  my  desk.  The  padlock  was 
opened  and  the  key  has  disappeared." 

"And  just  inside  the  window,"  added  Mrs.  Hem 
ingway,  "was  a  basket  with  food  still  in  it,  and  a  long 
string  tied  to  the  handle." 

"You  see  there  must  have  been  an  accomplice 
working  outside,"  explained  Mrs.  Hemingway.  "But 
how  did  any  one  know  about  that  key?  I've  never 
told  a  soul  in  the  world  where  I  kept  it,  principally 
because  I  didn't  suppose  it  was  important  enough." 

They  shook  their  heads.  It  was  indeed  perplex 
ing. 

[248] 


AND  THE  TUB 

The  following  day  Mrs.  Hemingway  lifted  the 
Tub's  coat  and  trousers  from  the  chair  where  they 
had  been  hung  on  the  memorable  night.  This  would 
be  an  excellent  opportunity,  she  reasoned,  to  send 
them  to  the  tailor's  for  cleaning  and  repairs. 

Absently  she  emptied  the  pockets.  A  broken 
knife,  a  tightly  wadded,  and  unbelievably  dirty, 
handkerchief,  a  small  stone,  a  pencil  end,  a  long  thin 
key.  She  laid  these  objects  on  the  kitchen  table, 
and  handed  the  suit  to  the  waiting  tailor's  boy.  Then 
she  returned  to  the  table  and  looked  at  the  collec 
tion  fondly.  She  picked  up  the  key  and  turned  it 
over  curiously  to  read  the  small  tag  which  was  at 
tached. 

Her  careless  air  vanished.  She  mounted  the  back 
stairs  and  tried  the  key  in  the  attic  padlock.  It  fitted. 
Returning  to  the  kitchen  she  stood  holding  the  key 
in  her  hand  for  some  time.  Then  opening  the  back 
door  she  descended  to  the  yard.  In  a  corner  be 
tween  the  back  porch  and  the  cellar  wall  she  stuck 
the  key  and  planted  her  heel  upon  it  firmly. 

Several  blocks  away  Beany  and  Gangleshanks 
wandered  about  the  former's  yard,  restless,  but  too 
crushed  by  the  recent  debacle  to  initiate  the  simplest 
enterprise.  On  the  floor  of  the  barn  lay  a  yellow 

[249] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

object.     Beany  entered  aimlessly  and  picked  it  up. 
It  was  "The  Duke's  Revenge." 

A  plaintive  meow  came  from  the  open  door. 
Beany  turned  and  flung  the  book  with  a  venom  which 
could  scarcely  have  been  inspired  by  so  innocent  a 
sound.  A  flash  of  black  tail  vanished  around  the 
corner  of  the  building. 


[250] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

MENTAL  DISORDERS 

Mrs.  Fleming  paused  before  the  bathroom  door. 
From  within  came  a  great  splashing,  groaning  and 
grunting  suggestive  of  the  death  struggle  of  two 
aquatic  monsters. 

"Aunt  Marcia's  going  to  be  here  for  dinner." 

The  struggle  continued  for  a  moment,  then  ceased 
abruptly. 

"What,  mother?"  asked  a  muffled  voice. 

"Aunt  Marcia's  going  to  be  here  for  dinner." 

"Oh,  Lord!"  The  noises  were  resumed  with  in 
creased  violence. 

Mrs.  Fleming  went  downstairs  feeling  that  at 
least  she  had  done  her  duty.  Whenever  Aunt  Marcia 
took  dinner  with  them  Beany  went  out  of  his  way  to 
prove  himself  a  total  failure  as  regards  punctuality, 
appearance  and  manners.  In  defending  his  case  he 
always  pleaded  ignorance  of  Aunt  Marcia's  presence 
until  too  late.  She  had  removed  this  underpinning. 
If  he  failed  now  he  had  no  excuses. 

[250 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

But  he  did  not  fail.  His  appearance  coincided 
with  the  first  stroke  of  the  dinner  gong.  His  man 
ners  were  those  of  a  courtier.  Mr.  Fleming  looked 
at  him  curiously  as  they  took  their  places  at  the 
table.  Beany's  face  had  a  peculiar  varnished  look 
like  an  exhibition  apple;  an  effect  caused  by  a  merci 
less  application  of  soap  and  water.  His  hair  was 
plastered  tightly  across  his  forehead  like  the  wig 
of  a  comedy  Irish  woman.  His  hands  were  notice 
ably  clean.  Even  his  shirt  collar  was  faultless. 

Mr.  Fleming  noted  all  these  things  and  pondered 
deeply  on  their  meaning.  He  was  much  too  wise, 
however,  to  remark  on  them.  It  is  a  delicate  matter 
for  a  father  to  show  surprise  over  conditions  which 
are  theoretically  supposed  to  exist  at  all  times.  But 
he  wondered  anxiously,  as  he  glanced  over  the  china 
flowers  in  the  center  of  the  table,  whether  this  sud 
den  bodily  purity  were  the  forerunner  of  a  crisis  or 
the  aftermath  of  a  calamity.  That  it  might  arise 
from  a  spontaneous  desire  on  Beany's  part  to  do 
what  was  expected  of  him  never  entered  his  mind. 

Beany's  actions  were  as  unwonted  as  his  appear 
ance.  When  his  mouth  was  not  otherwise  engaged 
he  wore  it  stretched  into  a  self-conscious  smirk.  He 
thanked  the  maid  politely  for  each  dish.  He 

[252] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"sirred"  his  father  like  a  junior  clerk.  Mr.  Fleming 
began  to  grow  fidgety  under  the  strain. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  Beany  usually 
monopolized  nine  tenths  of  the  conversation  with 
personal  anecdotes  tending  to  disclose  his  smartness 
and  ability.  Tonight  his  talk  was  limited  to  a  few 
stilted  observations  suggestive  of  the  more  formal 
dialogue  in  the  "Rollo  Books."  As  a  result  the  meal 
dragged  out  into  a  stiff  and  gloomy  feast. 

Aunt  Marcia,  however,  watched  these  signs  of 
"good  bringing  up"  with  approval  not  altogether 
unmixed  with  surprise.  She  was  an  avowed  Vic 
torian. 

"Grace,"  she  said,  "the  more  I  see  of  other  chil 
dren  the  more  I  appreciate  what  you  have  done  with 
that  child."  She  opened  her  lorgnette  and  leveled 
it  at  Beany  as  if  she  were  noticing  him  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life.  In  his  more  normal  moods 
this  would  have  caused  her  nephew  to  whistle,  put 
his  elbows  on  the  table  or  to  prove  by  some  other 
outrage  that  his  Aunt  was  totally  devoid  of  judg 
ment.  Nothing  is  so  irritating  to  a  small  boy  as  to 
be  spoken  of  as  if  he  were  a  museum  piece  unless 
it  is  being  pointed  out  as  an  example  of  the  pro 
prieties. 

[253] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Aunt  Marcia  was  undoubtedly  an  irritating  per 
son.  Her  one  redeeming  feature  was  that  she  fre 
quently  handed  out  presents  without  waiting  to  be 
forced  into  it  by  Christmas  or  birthdays.  For  this 
Beany  forgave  much.  But  anticipated  bribery  was 
not  a  sufficient  motive  to  explain  his  present  display 
of  self-restraint.  Anyone  who  really  knew  him  must 
have  sought  a  bigger  cause. 

Miss  Marcia  Fleming  sighed,  lowered  her  lor 
gnette,  and  turned  to  her  sister.  "How  fortunate 
you  are,"  she  said,  "to  have  such  a  beautiful  child!" 
Beany  pressed  his  toes  against  the  table  base  very 
hard  in  order  to  sustain  his  morale.  "And  Margaret 
with  those  two  lovely  girls.  It's  such  a  blessing. 
You  can't  understand  what  it  is  to  have  passed 
through  life  alone.  Of  course  I  can't  complain," 
she  added  hastily,  "it  being  entirely  a  matter  of 
my  own  choice."  Aunt  Marcia  was  always  very 
anxious  'that  there  be  no  misunderstanding  on  this 
point.  "Life  has  really  been  full  and  interesting 
If  only  I  might  have  had  one  heaven-born  child  it 
would  have  held  everything  I  could  have  asked  for." 

Beany  listened  to  this  discourse  attentively.  He 
wondered  what  kind  of  a  child  the  "heaven-born" 
variety  might  be.  He  had  an  idea  that  it  was  un- 

[254] 


AND  THE  TUB 

desirable.  Anything  with  the  stamp  of  Aunt 
Marcia's  approval  must  be.  It  was  probably 
equipped  with  curls  and  lace  collars. 

Aunt  Marcia  went  home  soon  after  dinner.  She 
had  a  firm  conviction  that  to  venture  on  the  streets 
after  eight-thirty  at  night  without  an  escort  was  to 
invite  attack.  Mr.  Fleming  had  always  encouraged 
the  idea.  It  insured  the  privacy  of  his  evening.  He 
even  went  to  the  extent  of  sending  her  occasional 
newspaper  clippings  dealing  with  criminal  assault. 

"Poor  Marcia !"  sighed  Mrs.  Fleming,  as  she  re 
turned  to  the  library  after  saying  good-night  to  her 
sister-in-law  at  the  front  door.  "She  is  so  fond  of 
children.  What  a  shame  she  has  never  had  any." 

Her  husband  snorted.  "Why  didn't "  he  be 
gan.  Then  he  glanced  at  Beany  who  was  looking 
at  him  with  grave  attention,  and  abandoned  his  line 
of  thought  abruptly.  He  picked  up  the  evening 
paper  and  settled  himself  for  his  usual  comatose 
hour. 

Being  a  normal  fellow  Mr.  Fleming  followed  the 
custom  of  normal  fellows  and  lived  his  life  after  a 
certain  unconscious  rote.  His  day  was  filled  with 
concessions  to  habit.  He  always  entered  a  cold 
shower,  for  instance,  sideways  and  with  his  right 

[255] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

arm  extended.  He  always  read  the  humorous  "col- 
yum"  in  the  morning  paper  after  he  had  reached  his 
office  and  then  rebuked  himself  for  wasting  time. 
After  dinner  he  always  read  his  paper  beginning 
with  the  financial  news  and  working  towards  the 
front.  While  he  perused  the  sporting  pages  he  liked 
to  chew  his  cigar.  When  he  arrived  at  the  editorials 
he  lit  it.  He  was  only  dimly  aware  that  he  did  these 
things,  but  was  miserably  upset  when  he  was  pre 
vented  from  doing  them. 

On  this  evening  Beany  watched  him  as  he  selected 
a  cigar  from  the  humidor  at  his  side  and  stuck  it 
absently  in  his  mouth.  He  stepped  promptly  for 
ward  with  a  lighted  match.  Mr.  Fleming  puffed 
slowly  once  or  twice,  then  came  to  himself  with  a 
start. 

"I  didn't  want  that  cigar  lit,"  he  said  crossly. 
"Why  don't  you  leave  me  alone?" 

Beany  retired  crestfallen.  Mr.  Fleming  glancing 
up  caught  the  expression  and  was  seized  with  re 
morse.  "Thanks  just  the  same,"  he  added,  and  then 
buried  himself  once  more  in  his  paper  with  some 
confusion.  It  was  often  hard  to  tell  who  could  be 
the  more  self-conscious,  father  or  son. 

Beany  immediately  brightened  up  as  the  rebuke 
[256] 


AND  THE  TUB 

was  thus  softened.  He  studied  his  father  thought 
fully  for  a  few  moments  and  then  disappeared  up 
stairs. 

"Do  you  think  he's  well?"  asked  Mr.  Fleming, 
alone  with  his  wife. 

Mrs.  Fleming  continued  to  knit,  watching  her 
stitches  with  a  half  smile.  "I  guess  he's  well  enough. 
He's  got  something  important  on  his  mind  though. 
We'll  know  before  the  evening's  up." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  her  husband  disgustedly.  "If 
I  don't  I'm  going  to  have  Doc  Whitehouse  look  him 

over.  I  don't  like  this "  he  stopped  as  Beany's 

footsteps  sounded  at  the  top  of  the  stairs.  A  mo 
ment  later  he  reentered  the  living  room  carrying  a 
pair  of  dusty  slippers. 

"Here,  father,"  he  said,  holding  them  out  to  his 
astonished  parent.  "I  brought  you  your  slippers. 
I  guess  they'll  make  your  feet  more  comfortable." 

"What  the—  '  began  Mr.  Fleming,  then  he 
stopped  and  stared  hard  at  his  son. 

"That's  very  nice  of  you,  Beany,"  said  Mrs.  Flem 
ing,  continuing  to  knit,  calmly,  as  if  this  were  a 
nightly  episode.  "Lay  them  by  your  father's  chair 
and  he  can  put  them  on  when  he  wants  to." 

Beany  drew  a  small  notebook  from  his  pocket 
[2571 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

and  made  an  entry  with  a  piece  of  pencil.  This 
done  he  took  his  seat  at  the  library  table  and  pulled 
his  school  books  toward  him.  There  was  no  sound 
for  a  long  time  but  the  faint  click  of  Mrs.  Fleming's 
knitting  needles  and  the  occasional  rustle  of  the 
newspaper. 

"I  believe  I'll  get  a  drink  of  water."  Mrs.  Flem 
ing  laid  down  her  work  on  the  sewing-table  beside 
her  chair. 

Beany  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  "I'll  get  it 
for  you,  mother.  Would  you  like  one,  too?"  he 
asked,  turning  to  his  father.  His  voice  was  almost 
pleading. 

"No,"  replied  Mr.  Fleming,  looking  up  from  his 
paper. 

He  lowered  it,  however,  the  moment  Beany  had 
left  the  room.  "Look  here,  Grace,"  he  said,  almost 
with  anger,  "what's  the  matter  with  that  boy?" 

"Nothing  that  I  can  see,  except  that  he  is  un 
usually  thoughtful." 

"Thoughtful  fiddlesticks!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Flem 
ing  unappreciatively.  "He's  acted  like  a  little  simp 
ever  since  he  sat  down  to  dinner  this  evening.  Slip 
pers,  indeed!"  He  kicked  the  offensive  footgear 

[258] 


AND  THE  TUB 

under  the  table.  "I  never  wore  a  pair  in  my  life 
and  he  knows  it.  This  sudden  obsequious  manner. 
This  simple  smile  all  the  time.  I  don't  like  it.  I 
certainly  don't  understand  it." 

He  resumed  his  paper  as  Beany  reappeared  carry 
ing  a  glass  of  water  which  he  handed  to  his  mother 
and  immediately  made  another  entry  in  his  note 
book. 

Quiet  settled  over  the  room  once  more.  Mr. 
Fleming  having  finished  his  cigar  reached  into  the 
box  for  a  cigarette.  He  always  smoked  one  right 
after  a  cigar  as  a  chaser.  The  box  was  empty. 

"I'm  going  to  walk  down  to  Jaynes,"  he  an 
nounced,  putting  aside  the  paper.  "Need  a  new 
stock  of  cigarettes." 

"Why  don't  you  telephone?"  asked  his  wife. 

"Let  me  telephone,"  suggested  Beany. 

"No,  thanks.     I'd  like  to  walk." 

"But  I  can  get  them  here  in  no  time,"  insisted 
Beany. 

"Damn  it,"  snapped  Mr.  Fleming  with  a  reckless 
disregard  for  the  consequences.  "Can't  I  walk  down 
to  Jaynes  if  I  want  to?  Everybody  seems  to  think 
I'm  going  into  my  dotage." 

[259] 


BEANY,  GANGLESH4NKS, 

"Yes,  sir."  Beany  resumed  his  work,  disappointed 
and  a  little  scared.  The  front  door,  slamming,  blew 
back  muffled  words  which  Beany  felt  were  not 
paternal. 


[260] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

ONE  GOOD  DEED  A  DAY 

Mr.  Fleming's  doubts  on  his  heir's  sanity  would 
have  been  partially  dispelled  could  he  have  been 
present  at  a  meeting  which  took  place  immediately 
after  school  the  following  day. 

"How  many  did  you  do?"  asked  Gangleshanks. 

"Three  sure  ones  an'  one  kind  o'  doubtful,"  said 
Beany,  consulting  his  note-book.  "How  many'd 
you?" 

"Only  two.  I  tried  to  do  a  lot  more  only  father's 
kind  o'  queer  that  way.  It's  hard  to  do  anything 
for  him  an'  I  didn't  have  a  chance  to  work  on  any 
body  else." 

They  walked  slowly  across  the  school  yard  and 
turned  in  the  direction  of  home. 

"You  didn't  tell  him,  did  you?"  asked  Gangle 
shanks. 

"Golly  day,  I  should  say  not.  After  the  fuss  he 
made  about  that  ol'  athletic  club  I  guess  he  wouldn't 
stand  for  joining  anythin'  else." 

[261] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"But  the  Scouts  is  a  kind  of  church  thing,  isn't  it?" 

Beany's  face  fell.     "Who  told  you  that?" 

"Well,  I  know  the  minister  of  our  church  is  al 
ways  talkin'  about  'em." 

"Oh  well,  that  don't  mean  nothin',"  said  Beany 
much  relieved.  "It  wouldn't  make  no  difference  with 
father  anyways.  He  says  if  he  ever  catches  me  in 
another  club  he'll  skin  me  alive.  You  ain't  told, 
have  you?"  He  asked  it  with  a  sudden  suspicion. 

"Certainly  not." 

They  walked  in  silence  for  almost  a  block.  "What 
have  you  done  for  your  good  turn  today?"  asked 
Gangleshanks. 

"Nothin'.  There's  nothin'  good  you  can  do  in 
school,  of  course,  an'  I  was  so  late  this  mornin'  I 
didn't  have  time  for  anything  beforehand.  What 
did  you?" 

"Nothin'.     I'm  goin'  to  do  mine  this  afternoon." 

As  they  neared  the  corner  of  Berkeley  street  an 
elderly  man  stepped  briskly  down  the  front  steps  of 
one  of  the  houses  and  walking  to  the  curb  stood 
waiting  for  an  automobile  to  pass  before  he  crossed. 

"There's  an  old  man  goin'  to  cross  the  street," 
cried  Beany  in  great  excitement.  "I'm  goin'  to  help 

[262] 


AND  THE  TUB 

him."    He  started  to  run,  but  Gangleshanks  grabbed 
his  arm. 

"No,"  he  said,  "I'm  goin'  to  help  him.  I  saw 
him  first." 

"You  didn't  speak  for  him  though."  Beany  threw 
off  the  restraining  arm  and  raced  towards  the  object 
of  his  commiseration,  who  by  this  time  had  stepped 
into  the  deserted  street  and  was  well  launched  on  his 
perilous  trip. 

"Hi !"  At  the  sound  of  Beany's  voice  the  man 
stopped  and  looked  behind  him,  startled.  Beany 
seized  him  by  the  arm.  "Just  lean  on  me,  sir.  I'll 
get  you  across  all  right." 

The  man  showed  justifiable  surprise  and  tried  to 
pull  his  arm  away,  but  at  that  moment  Gangle 
shanks  caught  his  other  one.  "Don't  be  afraid,  sir," 
he  said.  "We'll  get  you  across  all  right." 

The  stranger  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in 
bewilderment. 

"I  say?"  he  asked.  "What's  the  row  about?" 
He  spoke  with  the  rising  inflection  of  an  English 
man. 

"We'd  do  the  same  for  anybody,"  Beany  hastened 
to  assure  him. 

[263] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"And  we're  not  allowed  to  take  tips  for  it,"  added 
Gangleshanks. 

"That's  devilish  kind  of  you,"  said  the  grey-haired 
man.  They  had  crossed  the  street  by  this  time  and 
reached  the  opposite  sidewalk.  "And  would  it  be 
perfectly  agreeable  to  you  now  if  I  went  in  this 
direction?"  He  waved  his  hands  towards  the  busi 
ness  section. 

"Oh,  certainly,"  said  Beany  politely. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Gangleshanks. 

The  man  bowed.     "Thanks  awfully." 

"Don't  mention  it,"  replied  Beany.  Then,  sud 
denly  realizing  that  he  was  being  laughed  at,  he 
turned  red  and  walked  away  followed  by  Gangle 
shanks. 

"What'd  you  want  to  go  an'  butt  in  for?"  he 
asked  angrily,  when  they  were  out  of  earshot.  "Now 
it  don't  count  for  anything  for  either  of  us." 

"Sure  it  does,"  said  Gangleshanks.  "It's  half  a 
good  turn  each." 

Beany  entered  this  in  his  note-book  sulkily.  "Golly 
day,  we'll  never  get  anywhere  if  you  act  like  this. 
The  next  time  I  see  a  good  turn  you  stay  out." 

The  days  which  followed  developed  into  a  gruel 
ling  contest  between  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  to 

[264] 


AND  THE  TUB 

determine  which  of  them  should  show  the  longest 
record  of  good  deeds  to  the  Scout  Master  at  the  end 
of  the  week.  Their  lives  would  have  made  the 
Samaritan  appear  like  a  thoughtless  cad.  Beany 
was  no  longer  to  be  found  in  his  old  haunts.  Each 
afternoon  was  spent  in  searching  for  some  philan 
thropy — some  kind  act — which  would  justify 
another  tally  in  the  note-book. 

One  of  the  most  enjoyable  of  all  his  good  works 
was  the  establishment  of  a  milk  dispensary  on  the 
back  porch  for  stray  cats.  He  found,  however,  that 
nature  and  experience  had  made  the  cats  suspicious. 
Before  being  succored  they  had  to  be  caught,  which 
entailed  many  a  long  chase  through  the  broken  back 
country  of  Walnut  street.  Catching  cats  had  always 
been  one  of  Beany's  vices.  To  have  it  changed  to  a 
virtue  was  pleasant. 

As  time  went  on,  however,  a  sense  of  appreciation 
began  to  manifest  itself  among  the  ranks  of  the  local 
felines.  They  took  it  upon  themselves  to  visit  the 
Fleming  yard  uninvited.  They  sat  about  the  back 
porch  in  a  patient  circle  waiting  to  be  fed.  And  at 
night  they  returned  the  hospitality  with  songs  and 
choruses.  Never,  Mr.  Fleming  declared,  had  the 

[265] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

city  been  so  over-run  with  cats.  He  finally  wrote  a 
letter  to  the  newspaper  about  it. 

As  the  great  army  of  vagrant  cats  began  to  close 
in  on  the  Fleming  porch  Beany  deemed  it  prudent 
to  give  up  this  form  of  kindness.  From  that  time 
on  his  field  of  endeavor  seemed  to  grow  more  limited 
each  day.  Numbers  of  people  continued  to  cross 
the  streets,  but  they  were  a  reckless  lot  and  resented 
assistance.  Several  times  he  attempted  to  adjust 
horses'  nose-bags,  but  the  ungrateful  animals  always 
threw  back  their  heads  and  attempted  to  sandbag 
him  with  their  meal. 

Nor  was  he  able  to  use  his  father  as  a  subject  for 
his  good  works.  On  the  evening  following  the  one 
already  recorded  he  had  waited  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs  until  he  heard  Mr.  Fleming's  return  from  the 
office.  In  anticipation  of  that  gentleman's  invariable 
custom  he  had  started  a  hot  bath  running.  At  this 
point  his  mother  had  called  him.  The  bath  was 
forgotten.  When  Mr.  Fleming  came  upstairs  twenty 
minutes  later  his  remarks  would  have  discouraged 
the  spirit  of  helpfulness  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi 
himself. 

And  so,  contrary  to  the  laws  of  habit,  each  day 
found  it  harder  for  him  to  find  a  good  deed  to  reg- 

[266] 


AND  THE  TUB 

ister  in  his  book.  Gangleshanks  was  troubled  in  a 
like  manner.  He  summed  the  whole  thing  up  one 
afternoon  when  he  remarked,  "It  seems  to  me 
they're  always  talkin'  about  what  you  ought  to  be 
an'  then  when  you're  it  they  don't  want  you  to  be 
that." 

If  anyone  had  taken  the  trouble  to  unscramble 
this  epigrammatic  gem  they  would  have  discovered 
that  Gangleshanks  spoke  truth. 


[267] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 


CHAPTER  XXX 

CONCERNING  THE  INFANT  MICHAEL  JOHN 

Mrs.  Michael  O'Hara  spent  her  life  making  the 
world  cleaner  and  brighter  for  other  people.  From 
morning  till  night  she  washed  and  scrubbed  and 
dusted,  took  things  out  and  brought  things  back  in 
the  houses  of  others.  The  result  was  that  by  the 
end  of  the  day  she  had  but  little  ambition  for  right 
ing  her  own  small  establishment. 

Mr.  O'Hara  had  passed  on  to  another  world  two 
years  before — a  world  located  midway  between  New 
York  and  Poughkeepsie.  Their  parting  had  not 
been  marked  by  one  of  those  scenes  which  so  delight 
the  heart  of  the  human-interest  reporter.  Mrs. 
O'Hara  had  merely  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  re 
marked  that  it  was  one  less  mouth  for  her  to  feed. 

The  only  remaining  mouth  besides  her  own  was 
that  of  Michael  John  O'Hara,  named  in  memory 
of  the  parent  whom  he  had  never  seen.  Having  no 
other  place  to  go  Michael  John  accompanied  his 
mother  on  all  her  excursions.  As  a  result,  at  the  end 

[268] 


AND  THE  TUB 

of  a  year  and  a  half,  he  was  unusually  well-traveled 
and  a  deep  student  in  the  elementary  school  of  life. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mrs.  O'Hara  numbered 
among  her  clientele  a  family  who  lived  on  the  same 
block  with  the  Flemings.  Ordinarily  this  would 
have  had  but  little  significance.  Michael  John,  how 
ever,  had  not  been  born  under  an  ordinary  star.  It 
was  a  circumstance  destined  to  have  a  deep  and 
sinister  influence  upon  his  life. 

Mrs.  O'Hara  always  looked  forward  to  Wednes 
days  and  Thursdays,  the  two  days  when  she  worked 
at  the  Walnut  street  address.  There  was  a  big  yard 
where  Michael  John  might  play  guarded  from  harm 
and  temptation  by  a  clothesline  which  connected  him 
to  the  clothespole. 

All  through  the  hot  summer  Michael  John  had 
stood  for  this  sort  of  thing.  Now,  however,  there 
was  a  tingle  in  the  air  which  sent  the  blood  racing 
through  his  veins  and  stirred  the  spirit  of  romance 
and  adventure  in  his  soul.  Each  week  he  had  be 
come  more  accustomed  to  his  surroundings.  Now 
he  was  aware  of  new  and  interesting  objects  just  out 
side  the  radius  of  his  experience — a  radius  which 
was  exactly  four  feet  long.  It  occurred  to  him  that 

[269] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

perhaps  this  clothesline  was  not  a  natural  limitation 
after  all. 

Having  conceived  this  idea  Michael  John,  like  all 
successful  philosophers,  began  to  investigate  without 
delay.  His  first  experiment  was  to  worry  the  clothes 
line  like  a  puppy.  To  his  surprise,  he  suddenly 
found  it  loose  in  his  hands.  Holding  it  tightly  he 
walked  around  the  pole  several  times  fearing  to  cast 
anchor  and  sail  uncharted  seas.  Then,  loosing  all 
ties,  he  strutted  out  the  driveway  with  a  pronounced 
goose  step,  on  his  way  to  discover  the  world. 

It  is  a  long  walk  from  the  rear  of  the  house  to 
the  front  lawn  measured  in  terms  of  six  steps  to  the 
yard.  By  the  time  that  Michael  John  reached  Wal 
nut  street  he  was  ready  to  rest.  Being  a  young  man 
little  hampered  by  the  conventions  his  actions  fol 
lowed  his  impulses.  He  sat  down  abruptly  on  the 
grass  by  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk  and  began  to  poke 
a  round,  inquisitive  finger  into  the  earth. 

Either  by  chance  or  preordination  it  so  happened 
that  at  this  moment  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  were 
walking  down  that  very  sidewalk  on  their  return 
from  school.  It  had  been  a  trying  day  for  both. 
They  had  been  kept  after  school  for  whispering  the 
answer  to  a  knotty  arithmetic  problem  in  which  the 

[270] 


AND  THE  TUB 

Tub  had  become  hopelessly  involved.  On  the  way 
home  they  had  tried  to  help  a  collie  who  was  re 
moving  a  burr  from  between  his  toes.  The  collie 
had  repaid  their  good  intentions  by  removing  a 
triangular  bit  of  cloth  from  the  sleeve  of  Beany's 
coat.  The  world  seemed  determined  to  reject  every 
offer  of  good  fellowship. 

As  they  approached  Michael  John  he  rose  to  his 
feet  and,  goose-stepping  across  the  sidewalk,  ap 
proached  the  curb.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks 
swooped  down  upon  him. 

"Here,"  cried  Beany  seizing  him  by  the  arm. 
"Don't  you  know  any  better  than  to  get  killed?" 

Michael  John  looked  up  at  his  captors  and  pre 
pared  his  face  for  crying.  Then  he  changed  his 
mind  and  made  it  a  gurgle. 

"Where  do  you  live?"  asked  Gangleshanks  bend 
ing  down  and  speaking  very  distinctly  as  if  he  were 
addressing  a  deaf  foreigner. 

For  answer  Michael  John  allowed  his  legs  to 
crumple  under  him  signifying  that  he  was  a  soldier 
of  fortune  and  at  home  wherever  he  chanced  to  be. 
He  remained  dangling  limply  by  his  arms  till  Beany 
and  Gangleshanks  let  him  down  on  the  grass  once 
more. 

[271] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Gee,  what  a  stupid  kid!"  exclaimed  Gangle- 
shanks,  disgusted.  He  crouched  down  before  the 
delighted  Michael  John.  "House,"  he  shouted, 
pointing  to  several  examples  in  the  neighborhood. 
"Your  house.  Which  one?"  For  answer  Michael 
John  reached  up  and  tried  to  seize  the  vizor  of 
Gangleshank's  cap.  The  latter  rose  to  his  feet. 
"He's  a  nitwit,"  he  declared.  "But  even  so  we  can't 
leave  him  here  to  be  run  over." 

They  glanced  about  for  some  person  who  looked 
as  if  he  might  have  lost  a  weak-minded  child.  Wal 
nut  street  was  deserted  as  it  always  was  in  a  crisis. 
Michael  John  plucked  a  weed  from  the  lawn  and 
held  it  up  for  inspection. 

"Dada,"  he  said  in  a  conversational  tone. 

Gangleshanks  shook  his  head.  "Gee  whizz,"  he 
said,  "I  feel  sorry  for  a  kid  like  that." 

"I  guess  we'll  have  to  take  it  home  and  adver 
tise."  Beany  removed  his  cap  and  scratched  his 
head  in  imitation  of  his  father.  "Golly  day,  it's 
lucky  we  came  along  when  we  did." 

"You  bet  it  is.  I  guess  that  kid  don't  know  how 
near  it  came  to  gettin'  killed,"  agreed  Gangleshanks 
warmly. 

They  seized  the  unwilling  nitwit  by  either  hand 
[272] 


AND  THE  TUB 

and  bore  him  along  between  them,  his  legs  working 
frantically,  but  only  touching  the  ground  from  time 
to  time  in  giant  strides. 

Having  arrived  at  Beany's  house  they  entered  by 
the  back  door.  There  was  no  one  in  the  kitchen. 
There  was  no  one  in  the  front  of  the  house.  They 
stopped  long  enough  to  fill  their  pockets  with 
cookies,  then  carried  Michael  John  upstairs  to 
Beany's  room. 

Michael  John,  seated  in  the  midst  of  confusion, 
a  cookie  in  each  hand,  gazed  about  him  approvingly. 
He  had  thrown  himself  on  the  world  and  it  had  not 
betrayed  his  trust.  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  sat 
down  on  the  floor  in  front  of  him  and  looked  him 
over  with  misgivings. 

"What'd  you  s'pose  we're  goin'  t'  do  with  it?" 
asked  Gangleshanks. 

"Golly  day,  I  don't  know.  I  don't  want  to  keep 
him  here.  That's  a  cinch."  He  stared  at  the  ad 
venturer  for  a  long  time  thoughtfully.  Michael 
John  placed  one  cookie  on  the  floor  and  without 
ceasing  to  suck  the  other  he  gazed  about  him. 
"Dabwa,"  he  commented  finally. 

"Golly  day,  I  never  heard  such  a  nut  in  my  life !" 

[273] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

exclaimed  Beany.  "Nothing  up  here  at  all."  He 
tapped  his  temple. 

Gangleshanks  nodded  and  looked  with  contempt 
at  the  idiot  child  who  was  not  in  the  least  perturbed 
by  their  obvious  disapproval.  The  edge  of  a  red 
and  white  checkered  tablecloth  descended  to  the  level 
of  his  eyes.  He  regarded  it  gravely  for  several 
seconds,  then,  seizing  the  fringe,  gave  it  an  experi 
mental  pull. 

Beany  uttered  a  warning  cry  as  an  ink  bottle, 
caught  like  a  chip  above  a  waterfall,  was  drawn 
nearer  to  the  edge,  poised  for  a  moment  on  the 
brink,  and  then  disappeared  into  the  whirlpool  be 
low  which  happened  in  this  instance  to  be  Michael 
John's  lap. 

There  was  an  immediate  protest.  The  liberated 
ink  went  forth  in  all  directions.  Beany  sprang  to 
his  feet,  but  he  was  too  late  to  forestall  disaster. 
From  the  waist  down  Michael  John  was  soaked  with 
blue-black  fluid  warranted  by  the  maker  not  to  fade. 

The  sight  displeased  him  greatly.  He  complained 
fortissimo  while  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  mopped 
as  best  they  could  with  handkerchiefs. 

"Look  here,"  cried  Beany  throwing  his  disabled 
handkerchief  under  the  bed.  "You've  got  to  quit 

[274] 


AND  THE  TUB 

that,  will  you?  Do  you  want  everybody  in  the  block 
up  here?" 

Michael  John  was  apparently  of  a  sociable  nature 
for  he  continued  to  summon  the  neighbors  with  un 
abated  vigor.  Gangleshanks  decided  to  make  the 
supreme  sacrifice.  From  the  watch  pocket  of  his 
trousers  he  pulled  an  old  silver  watch  attached  to 
a  leather  fob.  This  was  his  most  treasured  posses 
sion.  He  gave  it  up,  however,  like  a  man. 

"Here,"  he  said  swinging  the  timepiece  an  inch 
in  front  of  Michael  John's  nose.  "Tick,  tick,  tick, 
tick." 

The  charm  worked.  Michael  John  ceased  to  cry 
and  reached  for  the  shining  object.  Gangleshanks 
drew  the  watch  away  and  Michael  John  prepared 
for  fresh  outbursts. 

"Golly  day,  let  him  have  it  if  it  keeps  him  quiet!" 
exclaimed  Beany.  "He  hasn't  got  enough  sense  to 
break  it." 

Gangleshanks  handed  over  his  precious  watch  into 
Michael  John's  chubby  hands.  "Tick,  tick,"  he  said 
dubiously.  At  which  the  temperamental  features  of 
the  nitwit  broke  into  a  sunny  smile. 

"Da,"  he  replied. 

Michael  John  let  the  watch  swing  on  the  end  of 
[275] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

the  fob  in  imitation  of  his  preceptor.  Then,  before 
Gangleshanks'  horrified  eyes,  he  raised  it  with  both 
hands  above  his  head  and  brought  it  down  on  the 
floor  with  a  resounding  thwack. 

"Bagaw,"  he  declared,  looking  up  for  applause. 

Gangleshanks  sprang  forward  and  snatched  away 
his  property.  Too  late  !  The  silver  watch  lay  dead 
and  silent  against  his  ear.  Hot  tears  of  anger  and 
disappointment  filled  his  eyes. 

"Doggone  you "  he  began,  but  Michael  John 

forestalled  him.  Reaching  out  for  the  lost  "tick- 
tick"  he  opened  his  mouth  to  capacity  and  produced 
a  dismal  yell. 

"Golly  day,  give  it  to  him,"  said  the  unsentimental 
Beany.  "He'll  howl  bloody  murder  if  you  don't." 

"Yes,  give  it  to  him !"  cried  Gangleshanks  wrath- 
fully.  "An'  let  him  bust  it  on  the  floor  like  it  was 
an  old  rock.  I  guess " 

"Well,  he's  busted  it  now.  You  might's  well  give 
it  to  him.  You  oughtn't  to  have  gave  it  to  him  in  the 
first  place  if  you  didn't  want  him  to  bust  it.  All  the 
good  you  done  now  is  to  make  him  holler  louder'n 
ever." 

There  was  no  doubt  on  this  last  point.  Michael 
John's  voice  contained  an  angry  note  which  threat- 

[276] 


AND  THE  TUB 

ened  to  tear  the  lining  of  his  throat.  Gangleshanks 
looked  undecided.  He  shook  his  watch  once  or 
twice,  but  it  only  gave  out  loose,  rattling  sounds. 
Sorrowfully  he  handed  it  back  to  Michael  John. 

The  result  was  like  turning  off  a  victrola.  Michael 
came  to  rest  on  a  high  note  and  slid  from  there  into 
a  deep-chested  gurgle.  He  turned  the  watch  over 
and  over.  Having  smashed  it  efficiently  he  had  no 
further  interest  in  banging  it  on  the  floor.  On  the 
contrary  he  handled  it  now  as  if  it  were  of  the  most 
fragile  porcelain. 

Beany  watched  abstractedly. 

"I  know  what  we  can  do  with  him,"  he  cried  leap 
ing  to  his  feet.  "I  got  the  idea.  We'll  give  him  to 
Aunt  Marcia.  She's  always  been  wanting  a  baby. 
We'll  give  her  this,  and  we  won't  say  anything  about 
it  an'  let  her  think  it's  hers  naturally." 

Gangleshanks,  who  had  heard  something  about 
Aunt  Marcia's  aspirations  before,  looked  at  Beany 
with  admiration.  "Gee  whizz,"  he  said,  "you  think 
up  things  fast.  When'll  we  give  it  to  her?" 

"Right  now." 


[277] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

"HEVINBORN" 

Thus  it  was  that  Michael  John  found  himself 
once  more  in  transit,  considerably  inked;  the  watch 
clutched  tightly  in  his  hot  hand.  They  paused  out 
side  the  library  door.  Beany  had  a  second  bright 
idea. 

"Wait,"  he  said.  "I'm  goin'  to  write  a  sign  for 
it." 

He  selected  a  piece  of  paper  which  was  lying  on 
the  library  table.  On  it  he  printed  in  large,  uneven 
letters 

HEVINBORN 

As  they  passed  through  the  deserted  kitchen  his 
eye  fell  on  a  clothes-basket  standing  near  the  back 
door. 

"Le's  carry  him  in  this." 

Michael  John  liked  the  scheme  immensely.  He 
lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  basket  and  his  hand,  grop 
ing  idly  about,  came  in  contact  with  a  clothespin. 

[278] 


AND  THE  TUB 

He  was  familiar  with  clothespins  and  rather  fond 
of  them.  They  were  just  right  for  sucking.  He  lay 
on  the  broad  of  his  back,  smoking  the  pin  and  say 
ing  many  interesting  things  in  his  own  language. 
Then  lulled  by  the  rhythmic  swing  of  the  basket  he 
fell  asleep. 

Aunt  Marcia  lived  several  blocks  away  on  one 
of  those  streets  where  gentility  and  poverty  meet 
but  do  not  speak  to  one  another.  As  the  boys 
approached  the  house  carrying  the  clothes-basket 
between  them  they  noticed  several  automobiles 
standing  outside. 

"Darn  it  all.     She's  got  company." 

They  stopped  and  looked  at  the  automobiles. 
Then  approaching  the  house  they  set  the  clothes- 
basket  on  the  front  lawn  and  crept  up  to  one  of 
the  windows.  In  the  semi-darkness  within  they 
could  make  out  the  forms  of  a  number  of  women 
who  sat  in  orderly  rows  with  their  backs  to  the  win 
dow.  At  the  other  end  of  the  room  stood  a  tall, 
thin  figure,  facing  them.  This  was  evidently  Aunt 
Marcia.  She  appeared  to  be  addressing  her  visitors. 
Beany  left  the  window  in  a  crouched  position  and 
retired  around  the  corner  of  the  house.  "It's  one 

[279] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

of  her  clubs,"  he  explained.     "She's  always  havin' 
clubs." 

"How're  we  goin'  to  get  in  without  everybody 
knowin'  ?" 

Beany  thought  for  a  moment. 

"Maybe  there  won't  be  anybody  in  back.  We'll 
take  him  'round  that  way." 

And  so  Michael  John,  still  peacefully  sleeping, 
was  borne  surreptitiously  through  the  kitchen  of 
another  strange  house,  up  the  back  stairs  and  de 
posited  in  the  hall  while  his  bearers  sought  Aunt 
Marcia's  room. 

"Here  it  is,"  said  Beany  finally.  "I  can  tell  it  by 
the  pictures." 

Aunt  Marcia  having  failed  to  collect  likenesses 
of  suitors  had  gone  in  rather  heavily  for  the  saints. 
They  beamed  and  frowned  and  glared  at  her  from 
every  angle  of  the  wall. 

Michael  John  was  removed  from  the  basket  and 
laid,  still  sleeping,  on  the  bed.  Beany  took  the  paper 
from  his  pocket  and,  selecting  a  pin  from  Aunt 
Marcia's  cushion,  attached  it  to  the  pillow.  They 
backed  away  to  get  the  effect  from  a  distance. 

"I  guess  it's  the  best  good  turn  we  ever  done," 
remarked  Beany  complaisantly. 

[280] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"I  know,"  agreed  Gangleshanks.  "It  seems  like 
we  ought  to  tell  her.  What's  the  use  in  doin'  good 
turns  if  nobody  knows  you  done  'em?" 

The  noise  of  vigorous  handclapping  floated  up  the 
stairs.  Beany  started. 

"I  guess  we  better  get  out  of  here  before  some 
body  catches  us." 

They  descended  the  back  stairs  once  more  and 
went  out  into  the  street.  The  sound  of  a  band 
reached  their  ears,  muffled  by  intervening  trees  and 
houses.  It  grew  louder  and  finally  crossed  their 
line  of  vision  several  blocks  away.  Michael  John, 
Aunt  Marcia,  and  the  sowing  of  good  deeds,  all 
sank  into  oblivion  in  an  instant.  With  a  common 
purpose  they  started  to  run  and  a  moment  later 
rounded  a  corner  and  disappeared  after  the  music. 

In  the  meanwhile  Mrs.  O'Hara  having  finished 
her  tasks  in  connection  with  the  laundry  tub  was 
preparing  to  take  in  the  washing  which  had  been 
drying  in  the  backyard  all  the  afternoon. 

She  was  delayed  by  the  arrival  of  Dan,  the  odd- 
job  man,  who  had  just  dragged  the  lawn  mower 
down  the  cellar  steps.  Dan's  ancestors  had  resided 
at  one  time  in  the  north  of  Ireland  while  those  of 
Mrs.  O'Hara  hailed  from  the  southernmost  tip. 

[281] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

He  was,  therefore,  to  Mrs.  O'Hara  the  personifica 
tion  of  vice  and  profligacy.  To  have  allowed  him 
to  pass  the  laundry  door  without  hurling  some  sort 
of  abuse  at  his  head  would  have  meant  that  she 
was  false  to  her  beliefs  and  the  isle  of  her  fathers. 

"Good  evenin',"  said  Dan  meekly,  propping  up 
the  lawn  mower  in  the  corner. 

"Don't  speak  to  me,  ye  munkey-faced  auld  repro 
bate,"  cried  Mrs.  O'Hara,  giving  an  extra  turn  to 
the  towel  which  she  was  wringing  as  if  to  demon 
strate  what  she  could  do  to  necks  placed  in  a  similar 
position. 

"Sure  I  only  said  'Good  evenin',"  expostulated 
Dan. 

"Well,  don't  say  that,  ye  follower  of  sin."  Mrs. 
O'Hara  seized  a  clothes-basket  from  under  the  tub 
and  started  for  the  backyard.  "Get  out  o'  me 
way."  Dan  intrenched  himself  behind  the  laundry 
stove.  "It's  the  likes  of  ye  that  makes  fer  all  the 
unhappiness  in  this  wurrld.  Only  fer  the  likes  of 

ye  we'd  'a'  been  a  free  people  today  instead  of " 

her  voice  trailed  off  as  she  mounted  the  cellar  steps 
and  came  out  into  the  backyard.  Then  it  died  away 
abruptly,  only  to  rise  again  in  a  series  of  blood 
curdling  yells. 

[282] 


AND  THE  TUB 

Forgetting  for  a  moment  the  geographical  bar 
rier  which  lay  between  them  Dan  rushed  from  the 
cellar.  Mrs.  O'Hara  had  dropped  her  clothes-bas 
ket  and  was  staring  at  a  piece  of  rope. 

"They've  taken  him,  the  blue-eyed  darlint,"  she 
cried.  "I  knew  they'd  be  takin'  him  some  day  with 
those  red  cheeks  and  curly  hair."  She  turned  sud 
denly  on  the  unfortunate  Dan  who  was  peering 
stupidly  into  the  empty  clothes-basket. 

"Why  don't  you  do  something?  What  good  are 
ye  standin'  there  like  a  grinnin'  auld  munkey?  If 
ye  had  any  eyes  in  yer  head  this  thing  ud  not  have 
happened.  It's  yer  fault,  bad  luck  to  yez,  with  yer 
dodderin'  ways  and  yer  stupid  thick  head.  I've  a 
mind » 

But  Dan,  perceiving  the  direction  from  which  the 
storm  was  approaching,  had  fled  before  it.  And  as 
he  sped  down  the  drive  he  heard  windows  opened 
and  voices  demanding  the  cause  of  the  outcry.  He 
knew  that  the  enemy  had  been  diverted  and  breathed 
more  easily. 


[283] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

A  JOB  FOR  THE  REFORM  LEAGUE 

The  Wednesday  Afternoon  Reform  League  had 
no  clubhouse.  They  met  each  week  at  the  home  of 
one  of  the  members  where  they  listened  to  a  paper 
describing  some  condition  which  threatened  to  rock 
the  foundations  of  society  and  civilization.  No 
sweeping  changes  followed  these  exposures.  The 
world  had  been  rocked  so  often  by  similar  organiza 
tions  that  the  motion  had  put  it  to  sleep.  This  was 
not  the  fault  of  the  W.  A.  R.  L.  however.  They 
continued  to  sound  the  alarm  unruffled  by  the  lack 
of  response.  It  was  incredible  how  much  rottenness 
the  League  could  uproot  without  repeating  itself. 

On  this  eventful  day  the  meeting  had  been  held 
in  Aunt  Marcia's  house.  Aunt  Marcia  herself  had 
agreed  to  read  the  paper.  Her  subject  had  been 
"Anglo  Saxon  or  Slav?"  with  a  subhead,  "The  Grave 
Disparity  Between  the  Birthrate  in  the  Homes  of 
American  Born  and  Foreign  Born  Families."  It 
had  been  an  aggressive,  well-written  paper,  deliv- 

[284] 


AND  THE  TUB 

ered  in  Aunt  Marcia's  clear  nasal  tones,  punctuated 
with  occasional  snorts  of  anger.  Aunt  Marcia  in 
action  was  reminiscent  of  an  old  battle  horse  who, 
having  smelled  powder,  is  eager  for  the  charge. 

"I  close,"  she  said  formally,  "by  repeating  what 
I  have  already  said.  It  is  the  patriotic  duty  of 
every  American  family  to  bring  forth  into  the  world 
with  reasonable  frequency  young  men  and  women 
equipped  with  the  ideals  and  traditions  of  American 
democracy,  so  that  they  may  be  a  bulwark  against 
the  flood  tides  of  Central  Europe — flood  tides 
charged  with  radicalism  and  Bolshevism — which  are 
now  beating  against  our  shores.  Shall  Americanism 
be  overwhelmed  or  shall  it  be  strong  enough  to  as 
similate  the  hordes  which  are  at  the  gates?  The 
answer  lies  today  not  in  our  courts,  but  in  our 
cradles.  The  balance  will  be  established  not  by 
American  capital  but  by  American  babies." 

Aunt  Marcia  paused  and  modestly  drank  water 
during  the  applause. 

"Splendid,"  exclaimed  little  Miss  Vauxhall,  who 
had  just  come  to  town  and  felt  it  her  duty  to  be 
enthusiastic.  "It  makes  you  want  to  go  right  out 
and  have  a  big  family — doesn't  it?"  Then  realizing 

[285] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

that  this  was  rather  in  the  nature  of  a  faux  pas  she 
turned  a  brilliant  scarlet  and  blew  her  nose. 

Aunt  Marcia  having  taken  a  glass  of  water  with 
her  plaudits  as  if  they  had  been  pills  was  adding  a 
few  informal  remarks.  "In  case  you  may  wonder," 
she  was  saying,  "by  what  right  one  in  my  position 
speaks  on  such  a  subject  I  will  give  you  as  my  au 
thority  Dr.  Frederick  Rosenwald,  the  noted  infant 
specialist,  on  whose  committee  I  have  served  for 
several  months.  I  believe  that  it  is  perfectly  proper 
for  an  old  woman  like  me  to  be  interested  in  babies 
(ambiguous  cries  of  'no,  no'  from  the  rear  of  the 
room)  although  there  has  never  been  an  infant  in 
this  house.  In  spite  of " 

At  this  moment  the  speaker  was  interrupted  by 
a  thud  on  the  ceiling  above  their  heads.  She  paused 
to  glance  questioningly  upwards  and  was  about  to 
resume  her  sentence  when  a  plaintive  and  unmistak 
able  cry  drifted  down  the  front  stairs  and  in  the  open 
door  of  the  sitting-room. 

There  is  nothing  startling  or  unusual  in  a  baby's 
cry.  A  sound,  however,  is  only  common  when  it 
is  in  its  proper  place.  The  location  of  this  one  was 
distinctly  disconcerting.  The  entire  room  sat  rooted 
to  their  chairs,  staring  at  a  plaster  nub  which  had 

[286] 


AND  THE  TUB 

formerly  been  the  base  of  a  chandelier.  They 
seemed  to  suspect  it  of  having  caused  the  interrup 
tion. 

The  screams  continued  to  grow  in  violence.  Aunt 
Marcia,  after  a  moment  of  paralysis,  recovered  the 
use  of  her  limbs  and  rushed  from  the  room.  Her 
departure  broke  the  spell.  A  low  humming  sound 
arose.  It  gradually  increased  to  a  roar.  Each  mem 
ber  must  tell  every  other  member  just  what  their 
interesting  impressions  had  been  upon  hearing  the 
cry. 

Little  Miss  Vauxhall  was  the  first  to  formulate 
a  plan  of  action.  She  was  the  junior  member  of 
the  club  and  anxious  to  please.  "Someone  ought  to 
help  Miss  Sawyer,"  she  said.  "I  think  I'll  just  run 
up." 

She  was  about  to  leave  the  room  when  the  firm 
hand  of  Mrs.  Payson  Adler  was  laid  upon  her  arm. 
"I  wouldn't  go  up,"  she  said.  Now  when  Mrs. 
Payson  Adler  said  she  wouldn't  do  anything  that 
was  usually  the  cue  for  all  well-bred  persons  not 
to  do  it.  Miss  Vauxhall  was  a  newcomer,  however, 
and  over-anxious  to  please. 

"Oh,  but  dear  Miss  Sawyer  may  need  some  help. 
There  seems  to  have  been  an  accident." 

[287] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"I  wouldn't,"  repeated  Mrs.  Payson  Adler.  There 
was  a  peculiar  ring  to  her  voice.  "Spare  her  that." 

"You  mean ?"  asked  Miss  Vauxhall,  blushing 

very  red. 

"I  don't  mean  anything,"  declared  Mrs.  Payson 
Adler  grimly.  And  with  this  unintentionally  accu 
rate  self-analysis  she  swept  out  of  the  room.  It 
had  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  the  only  reason 
Paul  Revere  went  down  in  history  was  because  he 
was  first  on  the  ground  with  an  unusually  spicy  bit. 
And  in  order  to  be  first  he  had  done  some  hard 
riding. 

"To  Mrs.  Preston  Fleming's,"  she  cried,  throw 
ing  herself  into  her  limousine,  much  as  Mr.  Revere 
might  have  thrown  himself  into  the  saddle  and 
cried,  "To  Lexington." 


[288] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

INGRATITUDE 

While  the  immortal  ride  of  Mrs.  Payson  Adler 
was  taking  place  and  while  the  other  members  of 
the  Wednesday  Afternoon  Reform  Club  were  pre 
paring  to  follow  her  example,  strange  things  were 
happening  in  the  room  upstairs. 

When  Miss  Marcia  Sawyer  had  first  opened  the 
door  of  her  bedroom  she  had  been  unable  to  trace 
the  howls  which  greeted  her.  Then,  rounding  the 
corner  of  the  bed,  she  caught  her  first  glimpse  of 
Michael  John  denouncing  with  the  full  power  of  his 
Irish  lungs  the  blow  which  fate  had  just  dealt  him. 

For  an  instrument  Fate  had  used  the  hard,  un 
yielding  floor  and  the  blow  had  been  delivered  on 
Michael  John's  head.  In  order  to  accomplish  this 
underhanded  deed  Fate  had  deliberately  pushed 
Michael  John  out  of  bed. 

Aunt  Marcia  was  a  woman  of  much  practical 
good  sense  in  spite  of  her  affiliations  with  the  Wed 
nesday  Afternoon  Reform  Club.  Her  first  thought, 

[289] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

therefore,  was  not  of  the  peculiarity  of  the  situa 
tion,  but  of  the  size  of  the  bump.  Michael  John 
quickly  discovered  that  he  had  fallen  into  kind  hands. 
Water,  cold  and  soothing,  was  applied  to  his  ruined 
forehead.  Words,  pleasant,  and  comforting,  were 
addressed  to  his  private  ear.  Things,  soft  and 
soporific,  were  placed  about  and  beneath  him.  In 
contemplation  of  these  comforts  he  forgot  to  cry. 
Soon  after  he  forgot  even  the  comforts  in  dreamless 
sleep. 

Then  it  was  that  Aunt  Marcia  unpinned  the 
printed  sign  from  the  pillow  of  her  bed  and  ad 
justed  her  glasses  in  order  to  study  it  more  care 
fully.  The  word  "Hevinborn"  conveyed  no  more  to 
her  when  read  for  the  tenth  time  than  the  first. 
Although  she  was  a  religious  woman  she  could  not 
believe  that  she  was  looking  upon  an  example  of 
celestial  orthography. 

She  turned  the  paper  over  and  over  with  a  puzzled 
expression.  Then,  laying  it  on  the  dresser,  she  did 
what  she  always  did  when  anything  out  of  the  ordi 
nary  happened.  She  called  up  her  lawyer.  It  is 
probable  that  on  her  deathbed  Aunt  Marcia  would 
have  sent  for  her  lawyer  before  she  sent  for  her  doc- 

[290] 


AND  THE  TUB 

tor.  It  is  certain  that  he  would  have  preceded  her 
minister. 

News  travels  fast  on  quiet  streets.  At  half-past 
four  not  more  than  ten  people  had  ever  heard  of 
Michael  John  O'Hara.  At  five  o'clock  his  name 
was  on  a  hundred  tongues.  If  babies  like  Michael 
John  could  be  snatched  away  in  that  manner,  said 
the  excited  mothers  of  Walnut  street,  what  chance 
had  their  own  super-offspring?  And  so  it  was  gen 
erally  agreed  that,  for  the  sake  of  public  security, 
the  offenders  must  be  brought  to  justice. 

All  sorts  of  clues  were  offered,  accepted  without 
investigation  and  discarded  without  reason.  Michael 
John  had  been  run  over  and  taken  to  a  hospital. 
As  each  interested  party  thought  of  this  possibility 
she  took  it  upon  herself  to  telephone  all  the  hos 
pitals,  with  no  other  result  than  to  clog  switch 
boards. 

An  evil-looking  man  had  been  seen  lurking  about 
the  house  from  which  Michael  John  had  disap 
peared.  Some  had  noticed  that  he  was  intoxicated. 
This  clue  was  immediately  popular  with  the  moving- 
picture  enthusiasts.  It  petered  out,  however,  when 
it  became  known  that  the  evil-looking-  man  was  the 

[291] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

owner  of  the  house  who  had  stayed  home  to  do  some 
odd  jobs. 

Michael  John  might  have  wandered  away  and 
hidden  in  some  dark  corner.  All  sorts  of  unlikely 
places  were  searched:  coal  bins,  wood  boxes,  cisterns, 
ash  barrels.  Little  credit  was  given  to  Michael 
John's  judgment  in  selecting  a  playground. 

Hannah  recounted  the  doleful  tale  to  Mrs.  Flem 
ing  when  the  latter  returned  from  a  shopping  trip. 
Hannah  had  no  dramatic  sense,  however,  for  she 
immediately  ruined  the  effect  by  announcing  that  she 
could  not  find  Beany's  winter  flannels  "high  nor 
low."  Michael  John  faded  into  insignificance  dur 
ing  the  frantic  search  which  followed. 

In  the  midst  of  it  the  doorbell  rang.  Without 
stopping  to  consider  the  possibilities  Mrs.  Fleming 
opened  the  door  and  found  herself  face  to  face  with 
Mrs.  Payson  Adler.  She  was  not  the  kind  of  a 
person  whom  one  would  choose  to  meet  at  the  front 
door  with  large  smudges  on  the  nose  and  stray  wisps 
of  hair  hanging  down  the  back. 

Mrs.  Fleming  was  not  easily  discomposed,  how 
ever. 

"Do  come  in,"  she  said.  "Such  a  pleasant  sur 
prise.  I'm  rather  a  sight,  I'm  afraid,  but  of  course 

[292] 


AND  THE  TUB 

I  wasn't  expecting  callers  at  this  hour.  So  nice  to 
see  you,  though." 

Having  assumed  the  offensive,  Mrs.  Fleming  felt 
more  at  ease.  She  ushered  her  guest  into  the  li 
brary,  accomplishing  wonders  during  the  swift  in 
stant  during  which  she  passed  before  the  hall  mirror. 

"I  just  dropped  in,"  said  Mrs.  Payson  Adler 
sweetly,  "to  see  how  you  were,  my  dear.  I  began 
to  think  that  you  must  be  ill.  No  one  ever  sees 
you  or  your  charming  husband  any  more.  Somebody 
actu'ally  told  me  yesterday  that  you'd  moved  out 
of  town."  Thus  did  Mrs.  Payson  Adler  square  her 
account. 

Mrs.  Fleming  assured  her  that  the  report  was 
unfounded.  It  was  so  nice  to  see  her  again.  And 
how  was  her  adorable  little  boy?  What  a  pity  that 
such  a  handsome  child  should  be — well — er — she 
supposed  that  you  would  almost  call  it  cross-eyed. 

Mrs.  Payson  Adler  had  come  as  a  news-bearer 
and  found  herself  being  drawn  into  a  spirited  fenc 
ing  match.  She  shifted  her  ground  immediately. 
Wasn't  Mrs.  Fleming  ever  going  to  attend  any  more 
of  the  meetings  of  the  Wednesday  Afternoon  Re 
form  Society?  One  saw  such  nice  people  there. 
And  occasionally  some  interesting  ones  too.  No. 

[293] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

They  hadn't  been  able  to  get  anyone  this  week.  Miss 
Marcia  Sawyer  read  a  paper. 

A  most  curious  thing  had  happened.  Mrs.  Flem- 
ing-my-dear  would  never  believe  it.  It  had  already 
caused  a  lot  of  talk  and  some  of  it  rather  unpleas 
ant.  But  she  had  known  Marcia  Sawyer  too  long 
to  be  influenced  by  that,  of  course.  Although  there 
was  no  denying  that  the  subject  of  her  paper  fitted 
in  peculiarly  with  the  aftermath.  And  these  mod 
ern  women  were  so  broad  in  their  ideas,  weren't 
they?  One  never  knew  what  to  expect.  Wasn't 
Miss  Sawyer  a  relation  of  Mr.  Fleming?  Half-sis 
ter!  Oh  dear  she  was  afraid  she  had  made  a  dread 
ful  break.  Mrs.  Fleming  would  undoubtedly  hate 
her.  Having  gone  so  far,  however 

The  telephone  bell  rang.  Mrs.  Fleming  was 
called  to  answer  it.  It  was  from  Aunt  Marcia. 
Most  extraordinary  thing.  A  baby.  What  should 
she  do?  No  identifications.  No.  Of  course  she 
didn't  know  who  brought  it.  Whom  should  she 
notify? 

Gradually  from  all  this  disconnected  talk  Mrs. 
Fleming  began  to  piece  out  a  semblance  of  the  facts. 
And  then  it  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  there 
might  be  a  connection  between  the  missing  Michael 

[294] 


AND  THE  TUB 

John,  whom  she  had  completely  forgotten,  and  this 
unannounced  stranger.  She  advised  her  sister-in- 
law  to  take  a  taxi  and  bring  the  child  round  to  her 
house  immediately.  She  had  an  intuitive  instinct 
that  she  was  right,  although  why  Michael  John 
O'Hara  should  turn  up  in  the  bedroom  of  Marcia 
Sawyer  was  more  than  she  eould  divine. 

She  returned  to  her  visitor  and  had  the  supreme 
satisfaction  of  listening  to  the  entire  story  without 
a  word  and  then  telling  her  that  she  already  knew 
about  it.  That  the  child  was  in  fact  at  that  moment 
on  its  way  to  her  house.  Mrs.  Payson  Adler  retired 
from  the  battlefield  indignantly. 

Half  an  hour  later  Michael  John,  having  had 
his  first  ride  in  a  taxicab,  was  delivered  into  his 
mother's  arms  after  the  most  extraordinary  series 
of  adventures  which  had  ever  fallen  to  his  lot.  He 
was  not  in  the  least  glad  to  see  his  mother.  To  him 
she  merely  stood  for  more  clothesline.  Having 
glimpsed  life  he  knew  he  could  never  endure  the 
backyard  again.  He  said  nothing,  however,  partly 
because  he  didn't  know  how  and  partly  because  he 
was  a  canny  Irishman.  But  he  resolved  that  at  the 
first  opportunity  he  would  repeat  his  escape  and 
fling  himself  once  more  on  the  hospitable  world. 

[295] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

The  reunion  of  the  O'Hara  family  accomplished, 
Mrs.  Fleming  and  Aunt  Marcia  tried  in  vain  to 
solve  the  mystery.  Aunt  Marcia  picked  up  her 
pocket  book  from  the  library  table  and  took  out  a 
slip  of  paper. 

"I  forgot  this.  It's  really  the  most  curious  part 
of  the  whole  affair,  too.  I  found  it  pinned  to  my 
pillow." 

She  handed  the  paper  to  Mrs.  Fleming  who  read 
it  several  times  and  shook  her  head.  "It's  a  mystery 
to  me,"  she  said,  turning  the  sheet  over  and  glancing 
at  the  back.  "What's  this?" 

"Just  some  figures — a  memorandum  or  something 
— someone  made  on  the  back." 

Mrs.  Fleming  looked  at  them  attentively.  Then 
a  light  of  recognition  and  understanding  spread  over 
her  face. 

A  few  moments  later  Mr.  Fleming  returned  from 
work. 

And  then,  just  before  the  supper  gong  rang,  Beany 
arrived,  dirty,  smiling,  and  superlatively  happy.  Had 
he  net  done  a  record-breaking  deed?  And  had  he 
not  been  listening  to  the  best  brass  band  in  town 
for  an  hour  with  the  special  privilege  of  standing 
right  next  to  the  snare  drummer? 

[296] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Br-r-r-r-r-rrr — boom — boom."  He  said  as  he 
turned  in  the  front  walk.  He  felt  that  this  was 
rather  a  neat  imitation.  "Br-r-r-r-rr,  boom,  boom. 
Br-r-r-rrr,  boom,  boom,  br-r-r  umpity,  umpity,  um, 
boom,  boom,"  he  muttered  as  he  stalked  through  the 
kitchen,  through  the  back  hall,  into  the  front  hall 
and  paused  before  the  hatrack.  "Brr-r-rr,  umpity, 
boom.  Brr-r-rrr " 

"James!"  The  voice  cut  into  Beany's  dreams  as 
a  clap  of  thunder  shatters  a  sunny  August  after 
noon.  He  dropped  his  cap  nervously  and  whirled 
about  to  meet  his  father's  hard-set  eyes.  "James, 
come  upstairs  with  me.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

The  sun  was  extinguished  like  a  dark  lantern.  The 
birds  ceased  to  sing.  The  snare  drummer  was 
snared.  Hopeless,  smothering  gloom  enveloped  the 
world. 

Gangleshanks  was  waiting  for  him  the  following 
morning  as  he  started  off  for  school. 

"Gee  whizz,"  he  exclaimed,  wide-eyed.  "What 
happened  ?  I  heard  they  found  the  kid's  mother  and 
there  was  an  awful  row."  * 

"There  was,"  said  Beany  shortly. 

"Well,  what's  wrong?    Didn't  your  aunt  like  it?" 

[297] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"No.* 

"Well,  how'd  she  know  it  wasn't  hers?" 

"Oh,  shut  up." 

"Oh,  all  right,  if  you're  going  to  be  a  sore  head 
about  it.  Gee  whizz,  if  I  was  a  sore  head  about 
ev " 

Gangleshanks'  voice  trailed  off  into  a  series  of 
mutterings  descriptive  of  the  manner  in  which  he 
would  end  his  existence  if  he  possessed  one-half  of 
the  unamiable  qualities  of  his  companion.  An  old 
lady  stood  on  the  curb  waiting  to  cross  the  street. 

"Come  on,"  cried  Gangleshanks.  "Le's  help  her 
across." 

"Help  her  yourself,"  said  Beany  gloomily. 

The  Tub  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  "You're 
a  fine  Scout,"  he  said  finally,  in  a  voice  that  was 
intended  to  convey  contempt.  "How  do  you  expect 
to  be  a  first-class  Scout  if  you  don't  do  good  turns?" 

"I  don't  care  if  I'm  a  fiftieth-class  Scout,"  replied 
the  unambitious  Beany,  "an'  I'm  never  goin'  to  help 
one  again,  not  if  they  was  to  line  up  on  their  knees 
an'  beg  me  to." 

"  "Gee  whizz!"  exclaimed  Gangleshanks,  much  be 
wildered. 

And  the  old  lady  crossed  the  street  unaided. 
[298] 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE  INFERNAL  FEMININE 

"Dance,"  muttered  Beany  savagely,  "who  wants 
t'  dance?"  He  removed  a  pair  of  patent  leather 
pumps  from  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat  and  regarded 
them  with  a  gloomy  stare. 

The  strains  of  an  orchestra  drifted  into  the  "Gen 
tlemen's  Dressing-room"  and  mingled  with  the  babel 
of  sound  which  already  filled  it.  Little  girls,  be- 
starched  and  beribboned,  passing  by  the  open  door, 
cast  shy,  curious  glances  at  the  confusion  within. 
The  atmosphere  was  charged  with  that  air  of  grim 
hilarity  which  precedes  a  party. 

Seated  among  the  coats  in  a  remote  corner,  Beany, 
Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  took  no  part  in  the 
activity.  Children's  dancing  parties  held  no  lure  for 
them  except  during  the  short  period  devoted  to  eat 
ing.  Dancing  was  a  form  of  social  calisthenics  re 
quiring  great  concentration  and  exertion.  As  for 
girls,  they  were  merely  an  inferior  race,  lacking  all 

[299] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

the  essentials  of  character;  to  be  pitied,  perhaps,  but 
scarcely  sought  after. 

"I  du-du-du-don't  see  why  I  got  t'  go  t'  their  ol' 
du-du-dance,"  grumbled  the  Tub  as  he  picked  at 
the  lacings  of  his  shoe. 

"Nor  me,"  agreed  Beany.  "It's  all  right  fer  a 
fella  that  wants  to  dance,  but  who  wants  to  dance, 
I'd  like  to  know?' 

"Nobody  but  sissies  like  Abner  Lynch."  Gangle- 
shanks  kicked  his  street  shoes  under  the  chair  and 
stood  up  gingerly.  "My  feet  hurt." 

"I'll  tell  you  right  now  I  ain't  goin'  t'  dance." 
Beany  glared  at  the  Tub,  challenging  contradiction. 
"P'rhaps  they  can  make  a  fella  come  to  their  ol' 
party  but  they  can't  make  him  dance  if  he  don't 
want." 

"You  bet  they  can't,"  said  Gangleshanks  heartily. 
"Aren't  you  goin'  to  dance  't  all?" 

"Not  a  step." 

"Then  nu-nu-nu-neither'll  I,"  declared  the  Tub, 
looking  relieved. 

"That  a  promise?" 

"You  bet." 

"All  right.  We'll  swear  not  to  dance  an'  th'  first 
fella  that  breaks  his  swear's  a  nigger.  We'll  stick 

[3°°] 


AND  THE  TUB 

t'gether  all  the  time  an'  when  it  comes  to  eats  we'll 
get  in  ahead." 

"Yu-yu-yu-you  fellas  won't  back  out  now?"  The 
Tub  had  grown  suspicious  of  alliances  which,  more 
often  than  not,  left  him  high  and  dry  while  the 
others  sailed  cheerfully  away. 

"Certainly  not.  An'  you  better  not  either  if  you 
know  what's  good  for  you.  Par's  I'm  concerned  all 
the  girls  can  go  home  now." 

With  gloomy  faces  they  climbed  the  stairs  to  the 
gymnasium  where  the  dance  was  being  held.  They 
might  have  been  on  their  way  to  witness  the  execu 
tion  of  a  dear  friend.  Beany  was  about  to  slip  un 
obtrusively  through  the  door  when  a  stout  lady 
seized  his  hand  and  shook  it  warmly. 

"This  is  James  Fleming,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes'm." 

"I  thought  so.  You  look  so  much  like  your  father. 
So  glad  you  could  come.  Would  you  like  to  meet 
any  of  these  little  girls?" 

"No'm." 

The  stout  lady  appeared  surprised  but  as  the  line 
behind  Beany  was  growing  longer,  she  relinquished 
his  hand  and  turned  away.  Somebody  thrust  a  dance 
card  and  pencil  at  him.  He  tucked  them  shame- 

[301] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

facedly  into  his  pocket  and  pushed  his  way  to  a  cor 
ner  of  the  room  where  a  group  of  contemporaries 
were  standing  about  endeavoring  to  show,  by  look 
and  gesture,  supreme  indifference  to  their  surround 
ings.  Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  joined  him  a 
moment  later  and  the  trio  withdrew  into  the  depths 
of  the  corner  where  they  leaned  against  a  leather 
vaulting  horse  in  apparent  seclusion. 

Round  and  round  whirled  the  scuffling  couples; 
bumping,  swaying,  their  faces  tense  with  concen 
tration.  Beany  watched  them  with  a  deep  scowl, 
intended  to  discourage  any  advances.  Then  an  un 
familiar  figure  floated  across  his  vision  and  was 
swallowed  up  once  more  by  the  crowd. 

In  that  brief  glimpse  Beany  recognized  a  flower 
from  a  different  soil;  the  product  of  a  richer  and 
more  artificial  loam.  Her  features  were  small  and 
finely  chiseled.  She  wore  an  expression  of  mingled 
innocence  and  sophistication  which  might  have  been 
prized  by  a  woman  of  forty. 

Unlike  all  the  other  children,  whose  hair  fell  in 
braids  or  curls,  this  creature's  was  caught  into  a 
mysterious  bunch  which  had  no  apparent  beginning 
or  end,  but  was  bound  in  place  by  a  broad  satin  rib 
bon.  Her  dress  was  more  elaborate  than  any  other 

[302] 


AND  THE  TUB 

in  the  room.  On  her  wrist  jingled  three  tiny  gold 
bracelets.  Most  remarkable  of  all,  on  her  feet  were 
gold  slippers  with  high  French  heels. 

Beany  had  never  seen  anything  quite  like  this 
before.  He  watched  curiously  until  she  came  round 
again.  She  was  dancing  with  Abner  Lynch  and  she 
didn't  even  dance  like  the  others.  She  lay  in  Abner's 
arms  and  seemed  to  glide  like  flowing  water.  All 
the  while  she  carried  her  head  thrown  back  so  that 
she  might  look  into  his  face  with  great  brown  eyes. 

"Who's  that?"  Beany  pointed  to  the  vision. 

"How  do  I  know?"  muttered  Gangleshanks,  shift 
ing  his  weight  to  the  other  foot.  Then  suspiciously, 
"Who  cares?" 

"That's  the  gu-gu-gu-girl  that's  just  come  to 
town,"  volunteered  the  Tub.  They  turned  to  stare 
at  him  in  amazement. 

"How'd  you  know?" 

"Mu-mu-mu-mu-mother  knows  her  mu-mu-mu- 
mother,"  explained  the  Tub  with  difficulty. 

"Who  cares?"  insisted  Gangleshanks. 

"Nobody." 

At  this  moment  the  buxom  lady  in  black  swooped 
down  upon  their  corner  like  a  vulture. 

[303] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Come,  come,"  she  said.  "You  three  boys 
haven't  danced  yet." 

They  looked  at  one  another  uncomfortably.  "We 
was  just  goin'  to,"  explained  Beany. 

"Let  me  see  your  card,"  demanded  the  stout  lady, 
much  as  a  traffic  policeman  might  have  asked  to  see 
a  driver's  license. 

Beany  handed  over  his  dance  card  unwillingly. 

"Why  there's  nothing  on  this  at  all.  I  don't  know 
what  ails  you  boys,  I'm  sure.  When  I  was  little, 
boys  were  more  polite.  Have  you  met  the  strange 
little  girl  from  New  York  yet?" 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer  she  seized  Beany 
by  the  wrist  and  half  led,  half  dragged  him  across 
the  floor.  The  going  was  congested  but  the  stout 
lady  made  her  way  like  an  ice-breaker  through  a 
winter  harbor. 

To  his  dismay  Beany  found  himself  being  intro 
duced  to  the  owner  of  the  golden  slippers.  He 
placed  his  hand  on  his  stomach  and  executed  an 
apologetic  dancing-school  bow.  They  were  left  alone 
together.  He  was  dancing,  holding  her  stiffly  at 
arms'  length  and  looking  off  into  the  middle  distance 
with  averted  head. 

But  this  was  not  the  way  that  his  companion  chose 
[304] 


AND  THE  TUB 

to  dance.  She  melted  suddenly  into  his  arms  and 
turned  a  pair  of  brown  eyes  so  directly  into  his  that 
he  could  not  avoid  meeting  them. 

"You  dance  beautifully,"  she  murmured. 

Beany  turned  bright  red  and  crashed  into  the 
couple  behind  him.  After  several  false  starts,  and 
much  pumping  of  the  left  arm,  he  finally  got  under 
way  once  more,  but  his  cheeks  were  still  burning. 

"People  are  so  clumsy."  He  could  feel  her  breath 
on  his  ear,  and  pulled  his  head  sharply  to  one  side. 

She  was  looking  straight  into  his  face.  He  began 
to  blush  once  more. 

"You  have  lovely  eyes,"  she  said,  unexpectedly. 

Beany's  mouth  opened  and  shut  several  times  with 
out  emitting  any  sound.  "They're  rotten,"  he  dis 
paraged  finally. 

"You're  a  goosey."  She  raised  her  hand  and 
pinched  the  lobe  of  his  ear.  Beany  started.  In  all 
his  brief  experience  with  the  opposite  sex  no  one  had 
ever  taker,  such  liberties  with  his  ear  before  or  re 
ferred  to  him  as  a  "Goosey." 

"Cut  that  out,"  he  growled,  and  began  to  dance 
furiously. 

"I  know  a  lovely  place  to  sit,"  she  said,  as  they 
bumped  into  the  sixth  couple  and  Beany  gathered 

[305] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

himself  for  another  start.  "It's  so  crowded  here 
and  the  others  are  so  clumsy.  Would  you  like  me 
to  show  you?" 

"I  don't  care." 

She  led  him  through  a  small  door  into  what,  under 
more  commonplace  conditions,  was  a  locker  room. 
Seated  on  the  benches  were  a  number  of  sufferers 
who  had  escaped  into  the  semi-twilight  to  bide  their 
time  until  the  food  should  be  served  and  they  could 
go  home. 

They  crossed  the  locker  room  and  entered  a  dimly 
lighted  hall.  Beany  found  himself  sitting  beside  her 
on  a  stairway.  The  edge  of  her  dress  touched  his 
hand.  He  drew  it  away  quickly  and  shoved  it  into 
his  pocket  for  safe  keeping. 

"I  don't  even  know  your  name,"  she  said,  moving 
closer. 

"James  Penhallow  Fleming." 

"What  a  funny  name  !" 

"What's  funny  about  it?" 

"I  think  I'll  call  you  Billikins."  Beany  looked 
behind  him  quickly  to  make  sure  that  no  one  had 
overheard  this  disgraceful  remark.  "What  are  you 
going  to  call  me?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know." 

[306] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"I  don't  think  you  even  know  my  real  name." 

"Sure  I  do." 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  know  all  right."  Beany's  feet  twisted  about 
uncomfortably.  With  his  free  hand  he  began  to  pull 
at  his  nose. 

"Well,  tell  me  then." 

"I  did  know.     I— I— I  forgot." 

The  maid  laughed  and  drew  nearer.  Inherited 
instinct  and  a  close  observation  of  her  mother  had 
taught  her  the  rules  of  the  game  surprisingly  well 
for  one  of  her  years.  'It's  Audrey  Blossom,"  she 
said.  "Don't  you  like  it?" 

"M-mm-mm." 

"What  are  you  going  to  call  me?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"I  know.  You  can  call  me  Mopsa  if  you  want 
to." 

Beany  stared  straight  ahead  into  the  gloom  with 
out  betraying  the  least  enthusiasm  over  this  privi 
lege.  He  wished  he  could  be  assured  that  Gangle- 
shanks  and  the  Tub  were  not  within  earshot. 

"I  like  you,  Billikins.  You're  much  nicer  than 
any  of  these  other  boys." 

Beany  wriggled  from  sole  to  crown.  "Shucks." 
[307] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Yes,  you  are,  and  I  won't  have  you  say  no." 

There  was  a  long  silence. 

"Don't  you  like  me  at  all?" 

"I  don'  know." 

"You  do  too,  and  you  know  it." 

"Shucks." 

"You're  a  horrid,  rude  boy,  but  I  like  you  just 
the  same.  Come  on.  The  music's  stopped.  I've 
got  to  go  back.  Pull  me  up." 

Beany  offered  an  unwilling  hand  and  pulled  her 
to  her  feet  with  a  jerk.  He  was  rewarded  by  a  soft 
pressure. 

"You're  awful  strong,"  she  whispered.  "Will  you 
come  out  and  see  me  sometime?" 

"I  guess  so." 

"When?" 

"Golly  day,  I  don't  know.    Sometime,  maybe." 

"Will  you  come  out  Saturday  afternoon?  Father's 
taken  the  Hunter  place,  you  know.  We're  going  to 
live  out  there  all  the  year  around.  Will  you  come?" 

"Maybe." 

"That's  a  promise.  Come  for  tea  about  five. 
We've  got  to  go  in  now.  I  have  this  dance  with 
Abner  Lynch.  Don't  you  think  he's  a  pigeon  pie?" 

[308] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"He's  a  poor  nut,"  replied  Beany  with  simple 
dignity. 

"He's  not  as  nice  as  you."  She  hesitated,  tracing 
the  carving  on  the  newel  post  with  a  slim,  white 
forefinger. 

"You  can  kiss  me  if  you  want,"  she  offered. 

Never  in  his  life  had  Beany  kissed  except  as  an 
unwilling  recognition  of  relationship.  He  faltered, 
considering  the  possibility  of  a  quick  dash  across 
the  crowded  dance  floor  and  out  into  the  night. 
Then,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  he  shut  his  eyes 
and  pecked  wildly.  His  lips  brushed  her  hair. 

Gangleshanks  and  the  Tub  still  hung  on  the  vault 
ing  horse  like  shipwrecked  mariners  clinging  to  a 
spar. 

"Gee  whizz,  you  took  a  long  time,"  greeted 
Gangleshanks.  His  voice  was  full  of  sympathy. 
"Was  it  awful?" 

"Not  so  bad." 

They  lapsed  into  silence  and  glared  at  the  dancers. 
Then,  without  a  word,  Beany  left  them  and  plunged 
into  a  group  of  similarly  occupied  young  bloods. 
His  reason  for  this  move  became  instantly  apparent. 
The  stout  lady  laid  a  firm  hand  on  Gangleshanks' 
shoulder. 

[309] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"You're  next,"  she  commented  grimly,  and  dis 
appeared  with  her  victim  into  the  melee.  Beany 
rejoined  the  Tub. 

The  latter  watched  Gangleshanks'  retreating  fig 
ure  with  compassion.  "Gu-gu-gu-gosh,  that's  a  dirty 
trick!" 

But  Beany  was  following  Gangleshanks'  progress 
across  the  floor.  He  was  meeting  Audrey  Blossom. 
He  was  dancing  with  her.  The  big  boob  was  trying 
to  say  something  to  her.  Beany  felt  deeply  for 
Audrey.  It  must  be  tough  on  a  girl,  he  thought, 
not  to  be  able  to  choose  her  own  partners.  Why 
shouldn't  the  girls  do  the  asking?  They  were  the 
only  ones  who  really  wanted  to  dance.  He  pictured 
himself  bowing  graceful  acquiescence  as  Audrey  ap 
proached  him,  and  pushing  aside  a  host  of  other  little 
girls  who  were  bidding  for  the  privilege. 

For  several  minutes  he  watched  Audrey  and  her 
partner  with  a  supercilious  smile  as  they  circled 
round  and'round  the  room.  Then  they  disappeared. 
He  scanned  each  couple  as  they  flashed  past.  Jeal 
ousy  made  its  debut  in  his  heart. 

"I'm  goin'  t'  get  a  drink  o'  water,"  he  snapped, 
and  left  the  Tub. 

Beany  passed  the  lemonade  stand,  however,  with- 


AND  THE  TUB 

out  a  glance  and,  circling  the  gymnasium,  entered 
the  locker  room.  The  recluses  still  occupied  the 
benches  in  dumb  misery,  like  patients  in  a  dentist's 
outer  office.  With  outward  nonchalance  he  sauntered 
across  the  room  and  leaned  against  the  doorway 
leading  into  the  hall. 

"I'm  going  to  let  you  call  me  Mopsa." 

"Umph." 

"Don't  you  like  Mopsa?" 

"Sure." 

It  was  Gangleshanks'  voice.  Beany  did  not  wait 
to  hear  more,  but  returned,  with  dragging  footsteps, 
to  the  dance  floor.  Unwittingly  he  approached  the 
lemonade  table.  The  dripping  sherbet  cups  were 
laid  out  in  orderly  rows.  Beany  drained  the  end 
cup  at  one  gulp  and  then  started  to  work  systemati 
cally  from  right  to  left.  The  old  colored  man, 
whose  duty  it  was  to  repair  depredations,  looked 
at  him  with  an  anxious  eye. 

"That  air  stuff  make  yo'  all  pow'ful  sick,  yo'  don' 
watch  out,"  he  cautioned. 

Beany  looked  angrily  over  the  top  of  his  cup. 
"Golly  day,  I  guess  I  know  what'll  make  me  sick." 

The  old  man  chuckled.  "If  yo'  don't  yo'  sure  is 
on  th'  road  t'  learnin'." 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

A  hand  on  Beany's  shoulder  caused  him  to  turn. 
He  looked  into  a  pair  of  laughing  brown  eyes. 
Just  behind  their  owner,  his  face  split  by  a  self- 
conscious  smirk,  stood  the  Tub. 


AND  THE  TUB 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

SOCIETY 

Saturday  afternoon  came  at  last,  as  Saturday 
afternoons  had  done  for  generations.  During  the 
preceding  week  Beany  did  not  mention  Audrey's 
name  to  either  Gangleshanks  or  the  Tub.  He  was 
uncertain  what  he  thought  about  her  himself.  She 
refused  to  fit  any  of  his  preconceived  notions  about 
girls.  She  had  at  least  aroused  his  vanity.  Seven 
or  eight  years  later  Beany  might  have  said  that 
Audrey  understood  him.  Now  he  merely  thought 
of  her  as  having  more  sense  than  most  girls. 

It  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  not  have 
a  monopoly  on  her  admiration.  He  attributed  the 
conversation  which  he  had  overheard  in  the  back 
hall  to  a  desire  on  her  part  to  be  nice  to  Gangle 
shanks.  He  saw  no  need  for  such  an  attitude,  but 
girls  were  notoriously  peculiar.  If  there  was  any 
blame  it  lay  with  Gangleshanks,  who  was  a  poor 
nut,  always  butting  in  where  he  was  not  wanted, 
and  lacking  sense  enough  to  appreciate  it. 

[313] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

He  had  looked  forward  to  Saturday  afternoon, 
but  now  that  it  had  arrived  he  was  nervous. 
Anticipation  had  been  better  than  participation. 
Never  before  had  he  been  awed  by  what  he  sin 
cerely  believed  to  be  the  weaker  sex.  He  was 
ashamed  of  his  emotions  as  he  locked  his  bedroom 
door  in  order  to  prepare  for  the  ordeal  without  in 
terruption. 

He  put  on  his  Sunday  suit  and  shoes  with  great 
care.  Then,  wrapping  a  towel  about  his  collar,  he 
stuck  his  head  under  the  faucet  and  allowed  the 
water  to  play  over  his  hair.  When  the  last  recal 
citrant  lock  had  been  slicked  into  place  he  studied 
the  effect  in  the  bathroom  mirror  for  a  long  time. 

Until  today  Beany  had  never  thought  of  his  face 
as  anything  but  an  inconvenient  area  requiring  con 
stant  washing.  Now,  as  he  turned  it  this  way  and 
that  in  order  to  catch  the  proper  lights,  he  smiled 
and  nodded  slightly  to  the  image  in  the  glass.  His 
lips  moved.  Then  the  smile  faded  and  was  replaced 
by  a  heavy  scowl.  He  shoved  his  lower  jaw  out 
and  his  head  forward  until  his  nose  touched  the 
mirror.  The  clock  in  the  hall  struck  four  and  his 
features  relaxed. 

On  the  bureau  in  his  mother's  bedroom  stood  a 
[3H] 


AND  THE  TUB 

row  of  small  bottles.  Beany  selected  one  marked 
"Cologne,"  and,  placing  his  folded  handkerchief 
over  the  mouth,  tipped  it  upside  down  several  times. 
After  inhaling  deeply  he  replaced  the  stopper  and 
descended  the  stairs. 

The  one  thing  happened  which  he  wished  most  to 
avoid.  He  met  his  mother  in  the  front  hall. 

She  sniffed.  "Phew!  Whatever  have  you  been 
doing?"  Then,  as  she  noted  his  unusual  appear 
ance,  "And  where  in  the  world  are  you  going  all 
dressed  up  like  that?" 

Beany  avoided  her  eyes.  "Just  out,"  he  said 
carelessly,  attempting  to  pass.  She  reached  forth 
a  detaining  hand. 

"Beany,  where  are  you  going  with  those  clothes 
on?" 

"Golly  day,  mother,  can't  a  fellow  dress  up  decent 
once  in  a  while  without  everybody  pickin'  on  him? 
You  always  tell  me  how  sloppy  an'  dirty  I  look  an' 
then,  when  I  dress  up  for  you,  you  don't  seem  t' 
like  it" 

Mrs.  Fleming  hesitated.  She  was  not  at  all  con 
vinced,  yet  she  lived  in  constant  fear  of  curbing 
any  transient  good  which  might  appear  in  her  son, 

[315] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

by  always  assuming  that  he  was  guilty  until  he  proved 
himself  innocent. 

"Well,  remember  you  have  your  best  suit  on, 
then,  and  that  you're  not  supposed  to  play  in  it. 
If  you're  going  to  play  at  all  you'll  have  to  go 
upstairs  and  change  it." 

"Golly  day,  mother,  I'm  not  goin'  t'  play.  You 
seem  to  think " 

"I  didn't  say  you  were.  I  said  'if  you  were. 
Don't  you  think  you'd  better  leave  that  handker 
chief  behind?  You  smell  like  a  perfume  shop." 

"Oh,  mother!" 

"All  right.  I  don't  mind  if  you  don't.  You're 
the  one  who'll  be  teased.  Now  remember,  your 
father  and  I  won't  be  home  for  dinner  this  evening. 
You're  to  have  yours  at  half-past  six.  You  can  ask 
Gangleshanks  over  if  you  want,  but  you  must  be 
in  bed  by  nine.  Mind  now.  And  don't  get  that 
suit  dirty." 

But  Beany  was  out  of  the  house.  Seizing  his 
bicycle,  which  leaned  against  the  verandah,  he 
started  to  ride  away. 

"Beany!" 

"Ma'am?"  He  stopped,  maintaining  his  balance 
with  one  foot  on  the  ground. 


AND  THE  TUB 

"You're  not  going  to  ride  a  bicycle  in  that  suit?" 

"Oh,  mother!  Just  up  an'  down  in  th'  clean 
street.  Golly  day,  I  won't  hurt  it." 

"Very  well,  then,  but  remember  what  your 
father'll  say  if  you  get  grease  spots  on  it." 

She  watched  Beany  as  he  coasted  down  the  side 
walk  and  out  the  drive.  He  was  really  a  nice- 
looking  little  boy  when  he  fixed  himself  up. 

Beany's  first  stop  was  at  Mrs.  McGruder's  candy 
shop.  He  inspected  the  contents  of  the  counters 
and  then  turned  to  the  gaudy  colored  boxes  which 
were  piled  on  the  shelf  behind. 

"I  think  I'll  take  that  one,"  he  said,  indicating  a 
large  heart-shaped  container,  tied  with  a  scarlet 
ribbon. 

Mrs.  McGruder  took  down  the  box  and  started  to 
wrap  it  up.  Beany  fumbled  in  his  pockets  and  pro 
duced  a  small  handful  of  very  small  change.  Mrs. 
McGruder  ceased  wrapping. 

"Two  dollars,"  she  said. 

Beany  counted  the  coins  slowly  as  if  he  hoped  by 
so  doing  to  stretch  the  total  to  the  necessary  amount. 

"Have  you  any  boxes  like  that  for  thirty-nine 
cents?"  he  asked  finally. 

Mrs.  McGruder  replaced  the  red  heart  on  the 
[317] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

shelf  with  a  sigh.  It  had  lain  there  since  Valen 
tine's  day,  seven  months  before,  and  she  feared 
it  might  be  growing  stale. 

"You  better  stick  t'  loose,"  she  advised,  opening 
the  back  of  the  counter. 

Beany  made  a  careful  selection  with  an  eye  to 
quantity  rather  than  quality.  Even  at  that  it  made 
a  pitiful  showing  when  placed  in  a  brown  paper 
bag.  He  stuffed  the  bag  into  his  pocket,  gave  Mrs. 
McGruder  his  entire  fortune,  and  left  the  shop  with 
a  heavy  heart.  It  was  hard  to  make  much  of  a 
gesture  with  thirty-nine  cents. 

He  sampled  the  chocolates  and  found  them  sat 
isfactory.  Then  he  tried  several  others  in  order 
to  make  sure  that  they  were  of  uniform  excellence. 
Who  cared  about  the  box  anyways?  Somewhat 
cheered  he  resumed  his  journey. 

The  Hunter  estate  lay  a  good  five  miles  outside  of 
the  city  limits.  It  was  a  fine,  cloudless  afternoon, 
and  past  its  brown  stone  gates  there  streamed  an 
endless  line  of  pleasure  cars.  It  was  far  from  good 
bicycle  riding.  Again  and  again  Beany  was  forced 
into  the  loose  dirt  by  the  side  of  the  road  at  the 
shriek  of  warning  claxons.  Each  passing  car 
flaunted  its  banner  of  dust  behind  it.  The  yellow 


AND  THE  TUB 

particles  sifted  over  his  shoes,  his  Sunday  suit  and 
into  his  eyes,  ears  and  mouth.  An  occasional  trickle 
of  perspiration  wound  through  the  grime  and  was 
absorbed  by  his  collar. 

Just  before  he  reached  the  brick  wall  which 
marked  the  beginning  of  the  Hunter  property, 
another  cyclist  emerged  from  the  dust  in  front  and 
passed  through  the  brown-stone  arch. 

Beany  pumped  slowly  up  the  winding  drive  which 
led  to  the  house.  Through  the  trees  he  caught 
glimpses  of  an  imposing  white  front,  of  terraced 
lawns,  and  a  sparkling  fountain.  The  formality 
of  the  oaks,  which  bordered  the  graveled  road, 
caused  his  heart  to  sink.  His  hand  slid  into  the 
pocket  containing  the  paper  bag  and  came  out  bear 
ing  moist  brown  proofs  that  it  was  still  there. 
Slowly  he  rounded  the  corner  of  the  house,  then 
stopped  in  amazement. 

Gangleshanks  was  standing  under  the  porte- 
cochere  beating  dust  from  his  clothes.  At  the  sound 
of  crunching  gravel  he  looked  up. 

"Gee  whizz,  what're  you  doin'  here?"  he  asked, 
with  no  great  show  of  pleasure  at  the  coincidence. 

"What're  you?"  Beany  leaned  his  bicycle  against 
the  side  of  the  house  and  approached  defiantly. 

[319] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

"Oh,  I  just  come  out." 

"So'd  I." 

"Wha'd  you  come  out  for?" 

"I  was  asked." 

"So's  I." 

"Yes,  you  was!" 

"Bet  I  was." 

It  was  an  awkward  situation.  They  glared  at 
one  another,  uncertain  what  move  to  make  next. 
Beany  pointed  to  Gangleshanks'  travel-stained 
clothes. 

"You're  not  goin'  in  lookin'  like  that,  are  y'?" 

"Like  what?" 

"You  look  like  you  been  dragged  out  here." 

"Oh,  I  do,  do  I?  Well,  I  guess  you  don'  look 
like  any  ban'  box  yourself." 

Beany  glanced  down  at  his  dusty  shoes  and  let 
his  eyes  travel  upwards  as  far  as  they  would  go. 
His  face  fell. 

"Do  I  look's  bad's  you?" 

"Worse." 

"Le's  go  home." 

At  that  moment  the  side  door  opened  and  a  small 
vision  in  pink  and  white  fluttered  onto  the  porch. 

[320] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Why,  it's  Billikins  and  Doodleboy.  Come  on  in. 
I  thought  you'd  forgotten  me." 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks  looked  at  one  another 
as  she  mentioned  the  nicknames.  Their  faces  ex 
pressed  mutual  contempt.  The  hostess  began  to 
laugh. 

They  watched  her  sourly  for  several  moments. 
"What's  so  darn  funny?"  asked  Beany,  as  she 
showed  no  signs  of  stopping. 

"You  are,"  cried  the  merry  girl,  and  went  off 
into  fresh  convulsions.  Still  laughing  she  led  them 
into  a  great  marble  hall  with  forbidding  chairs 
standing  in  the  corners.  They  followed  her, 
speechless  and  sullen. 

"Oh,  dear!"  cried  Audrey,  wiping  her  eyes  with 
a  tiny  handkerchief.  "You  both  look  so  funny." 
They  looked  anything  but  funny  as  they  stood  in 
the  semi-twilight  glaring  at  her.  "Come  on  out  on 
the  terrace.  We're  going  to  have  tea  out  there." 

But  Beany  remained  by  the  marble  table,  twirling 
his  cap.  His  pride  had  been  severely  bruised.  "I 
don't  like  tea,"  he  said. 

Audrey  crossed  the  hall  and  patted  him  on  the 
arm.  "I  didn't  mean  to  laugh,"  she  said.  "And  I 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

like  you  this  way  better  than  if  you'd  been  all  dressed 
up." 

"But  I  am  all  dress "  began  Beany,  then 

thought  better  of  it  and  stopped. 

Gangleshanks  watched  this  scene  derisively. 
"Aw,  gee  whizz,"  he  remarked  to  the  red  plush 
chairs. 

Audrey  led  the  way  through  a  maze  of  gorgeous 
rooms  and  ponderous  furniture.  Once  Beany 
reached  for  the  paper  bag.  Then  he  decided  to 
wait  for  a  more  propitious  moment. 

They  stepped  through  a  French  window  and 
found  themselves  on  a  terrace  overlooking  a  formal 
garden.  In  the  middle  of  the  terrace  was  a  table, 
laden  with  food.  Seated  at  the  table,  furtively  de 
vouring  loose  bits  of  frosting  from  the  chocolate 
cake,  sat  the  Tub. 

In  the  shock  of  this  meeting  Beany  and  Gangle 
shanks  forgot  their  animosity.  They  stopped,  half 
way  through  the  window  and  stared.  The  Tub  was 
the  only  one  who  showed  perfect  composure.  He 
nodded,  smiled,  and  continued  to  nibble  frosting. 

Audrey  mistook  the  pause  for  embarrassment. 

"Excuse  me,"  she  said,  in  her  best  imitation  of 
her  mother.  "I  thought  you  knew  one  another. 

[322] 


AND  THE  TUB 

Alexander  Hemingway,  this  is  James  Fleming  and 
Harry  Braceworth." 

Beany  caught  his  toe  on  the  threshold.  He 
stumbled  and  turned  red. 

"How  d'y  do?"  he  said,  and,  advancing,  seized 
the  Tub's  sugary  hand  with  a  limp  grasp.  Gangle- 
shanks,  in  a  dazed  condition,  did  likewise.  Then, 
suddenly  realizing  what  he  was  doing,  he  flung  it 
from  him  as  if  it  had  been  a  hot  coal. 

"Oh,  rats!"  he  exclaimed,  and  sitting  down  on 
the  edge  of  a  wicker  armchair,  stared  miserably  at 
the  food. 

A  man  emerged  from  the  house  bearing  a  great 
clinking  pitcher  with  a  frost-covered  exterior.  He 
was  immaculately  dressed  in  a  black  cutaway.  Beany 
rose. 

"How  d'y  do?"  he  asked. 

The  stranger  regarded  him  over  the  top  of  the 
pitcher  with  elevated  eyebrows  and  nodded,  ever  so 
slightly. 

"Set  it  there,"  commanded  the  hostess  in  a  tone 
which  rivaled  the  pitcher  for  temperature. 

Beany  felt  that  he  had  done  something  wrong 
and  sat  down,  more  disconsolate  than  ever.  Gangle- 
shanks  and  the  Tub,  who  had  risen  at  the  same  time, 

[323] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

also  resumed  their  places.     Gloom  settled  over  the 
feast. 

Audrey  tried  to  raise  the  general  level  of  spirits 
by  chattering  incessantly.  She  might  as  well  have 
tried  to  raise  the  Lusitania  with  a  trout  line.  The 
more  she  talked  the  more  morose  her  callers  be 
came.  They  ate  and  glared  and  ate,  but  never  a 
word  did  they  speak. 

Several  things  were  quite  clear  to  Beany  as  he 
took  advantage  of  the  silence  to  concentrate  on 
the  chocolate  cake.  The  Tub  and  Gangleshanks 
had  butted  into  his  party  somehow.  By  a  stretch 
of  imagination  he  could  conceive  of  Gangleshanks 
having  been  asked  in  a  fit  of  absentmindedness,  but 
the  presence  of  the  Tub  put  the  entire  affair  into 
the  realm  of  farce. 

He  felt  sorry  for  Audrey.  He  meant  to  get 
her  alone  before  the  afternoon  was  out  and  tell  her 
so.  That  would  also  be  a  good  opportunity  for 
presenting  the  candy.  He  felt  it  cautiously.  It 
was  sticky,  but  still  serviceable. 

He  must  first  try  to  get  rid  of  the  two  unwelcome 
guests.  Failing  in  this  he  determined  to  outstay 
them.  His  mind  made  up,  he  slid  back  into  the 
chair  and  settled  himself  for  an  indefinite  vigil. 

[324] 


AND  THE  TUB 

The  shadows  on  the  lawn  lengthened  slowly. 
Audrey's  flow  of  small  talk  grew  thinner  and  thinner, 
and  finally  became  a  trickle.  The  man  with  the 
cutaway  removed  the  tea  things.  This  time  Beany 
did  not  even  favor  him  with  a  glance.  He  sat 
staring  at  Audrey  with  moody  expectancy.  His 
silence  was  only  equaled  by  that  of  Gangleshanks 
and  the  Tub. 

The  clock  struck  six,  but  they  made  no  movement. 

"Let's  go  in,"  suggested  Audrey.  "It  must  be 
getting  very  late." 

Among  the  young  folks  with  whom  she  had  al 
ways  associated,  such  a  remark  from  a  hostess  would 
have  been  interpreted  as  unforgivable  rudeness.  It 
would,  at  least,  have  cleared  the  house. 

In  this  case  it  had  no  effect  whatsoever.  They 
filed  silently  after  her  into  the  living-room  and 
seated  themselves  on  a  davenport  before  the  open 
fire.  The  gentleman  in  the  cutaway  slid  into  the 
room  and  lit  the  lights.  Beany's  original  suspicion 
that  this  was  Audrey's  father  became  almost  a 
certainty.  He  was  probably  shy.  Or  perhaps  he 
was  even  dumb.  Beany  was  about  to  enquire,  then 
decided  not  to. 

[325] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Half-past  six  struck. 

"Do  you  like  pictures?"  Audrey,  on  the  verge  of 
tears,  pulled  a  sheaf  of  magazines  from  the  table. 

"I  don't  care,"  said  Beany  magnanimously.  The 
others  merely  drew  the  magazines  towards  them 
without  a  word. 

Beany  turned  the  pages  with  unseeing  eyes.  He 
guessed  he  could  stick  it  as  long  as  Gangleshanks 
or  the  Tub.  The  silence  of  the  tombs  descended 
once  more. 

The  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  seven. 

Beany  rose  in  a  panic  with  visions  of  Hannah 
paging  him  up  and  down  Chestnut  street.  At  that 
moment  the  portieres  were  drawn  and  a  lady,  who 
looked  startlingly  like  an  enlargement  of  her  daugh 
ter,  swept  into  the  room. 

"So  nice  of  you  to  stay  for  dinner,"  she  said, 
taking  the  ends  of  Beany's  fingers  and  oscillating 
them  gently  to  and  fro. 

"Not  at  all,  ma'am."  Such  a  thought  had  been 
furthest  from  his  mind.  His  social  education,  how 
ever,  was  not  equal  to  refusing  an  invitation  when 
couched  in  this  unusual  form. 

Mr.  Blossom  entered,  a  heavy,  preoccupied  man. 
[326] 


AND  THE  TUB 

He  greeted  the  boys  with  an  absent  stare  and  looked 
somewhat  surprised  when  informed  that  they  had 
consented  to  stay  for  dinner.  After  several  am 
biguous  grunts,  either  of  pleasure  or  disgust,  he 
took  up  a  position  in  front  of  the  fire  and  followed 
the  wall  moulding  back  and  forth  with  his  eyes. 

Audrey  appeared  to  draw  fresh  courage  from 
her  mother.  Her  conversational  powers  returned. 
Mother  and  daughter  filled  up  the  gap  until  dinner 
was  announced.  Mr.  Blossom  merely  raised  him 
self  on  his  toes  occasionally  and  said  "Umph." 
Beany  gave  himself  up  to  gloomy  misgivings. 

If  this  was  the  social  world  he  determined  that 
he  was  gracing  it  for  the  first  and  last  time.  His 
emotions  towards  Gangleshanks  were  those  of  pure 
hatred.  But  for  the  Tub  he  felt  only  pity.  Gangle 
shanks  might  possibly  be  a  mild  rival.  The  Tub 
could  be  nothing  but  a  goat. 

Somewhat  to  Beany's  surprise,  Mrs.  Blossom 
placed  the  Tub  next  to  Audrey  at  the  dinner  table. 
Beany  had  never  seen  such  a  large  table  for  so 
few  people.  The  gentleman  in  the  cutaway  served 
the  soup.  His  relationship  to  Audrey  became  more 
and  more  puzzling.  Perhaps  he  was  a  distant  uncle. 

[327] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Beany  smiled  at  him  pleasantly,  but  was  met  by  a 
stony  stare. 

Dinner  was  a  trying  affair.  Beany  was  conscious 
that  he  had  not  been  given  an  opportunity  to  wet 
his  hair  and  that  it  was  sticking  straight  up  in 
consequence.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do  with 
half  the  dishes  which  were  passed  to  him  and  so 
refused  them.  He  essayed  to  analyze  the  weather 
with  Mr.  Blossom,  but  was  only  met  by  grunts. 
He  rose,  still  hungry,  but  greatly  relieved  that  the 
meal  was  over. 

"I  think  you'd  better  take  your  guests  into  the 
music  room,"  suggested  Mrs.  Blossom.  "Your 
father  has  some  law  work  to  do." 

The  music  room  was  an  enormous  affair  with  a 
grand  piano  at  one  end  and  an  electric  organ  at 
the  other.  Beany  was  submerged  by  its  vastness. 
He  stood  uneasily  in  the  middle  of  the  polished  floor 
pulling  at  the  buttons  on  his  jacket. 

"Do  you  play  the  piano?"  asked  Audrey. 

He  started  guiltily.  No  one  had  ever  accused 
him  of  such  a  thing  before. 

"Gosh,  no." 

"Would  you  like  me  to  play?" 
[328] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"I  don't  mind." 

"What  would  you  like?" 

"Any  old  thing." 

"Do  you  know  'La  Berseuse1?  I've  just  learned 
it." 

"I  don't  think  so.     Play  it  anyways." 

Audrey  sat  down  at  the  piano.  As  might  have 
been  supposed  she  played  extremely  well.  Beany 
listened  languidly  to  the  first  few  bars,  then,  con 
cluding  that  either  Audrey  was  making  a  mess  of 
it,  or  the  thing  didn't  have  any  tune,  he  dropped 
into  a  sound  sleep. 

The  piano  stopped  and  the  sudden  silence  caused 
Beany's  head  to  snap  upwards  where  it  collided  with 
the  carved  back  of  the  chair.  Audrey  looked  at 
him  expectantly. 

"Dog-gone  it!"  he  exclaimed  irritably. 

"Would  you  like  to  hear  the  organ?"  asked  the 
patient  Audrey. 

No  one  showed  either  enthusiasm  or  dislike. 
Taking  the  silence  for  assent,  she  crossed  the  room 
and  turned  on  the  electric  motor.  The  boys  roused 
themselves  sufficiently  to  stand  behind  her  and  stare 
languidly  while  she  explained  the  various  stops  and 
levers. 

[329] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

Glimmerings  of  interest  were  visible  in  Beany's 
face.  Here  was  a  piece  of  machinery  worthy  of 
his  mettle. 

"Can  I  do  that?"  he  asked,  as  Audrey  played  the 
first  record  and  rolled  it  back. 

She  relinquished  her  place  immediately,  willing 
to  make  any  sacrifice  to  fan  this  unexpected  spark 
of  animation. 

"Do  you  know  how  to  start  it?" 

"Sure."  Beany  pressed  half  a  dozen  buttons,  but 
nothing  happened.  Audrey  showed  him.  It  was 
so  simple.  This  started  it.  This  stopped  it.  This 
made  it  go  slow  or  fast.  This  loud  or  soft.  And 
these  little  knobs  represented  the  musical  instru 
ments  printed  upon  them. 

Gangleshanks  slid  onto  the  piano  bench  beside 
Beany.  They  selected  "Lead,  Kindly  Light"  at 
random  and  let  it  unwind  itself  to  a  conclusion  with 
out  interference.  Beany  pressed  several  exploratory 
buttons  and  the  roll  began  to  reverse.  They  reat- 
tached  it  immediately  and  started  it  on  its  return 
journey. 

"Le's  play  it  with  the  French  Horn  all  alone  by 
itself."  Beany  pushed  in  all  the  stops  but  one. 

"That's  rotten,"  commented  Gangleshanks  after 

[330] 


AND  THE  TUB 

listening  critically  for  several  moments.     "Le's  try 
this  Vox  Humana;  whatever  it  is." 

"That's  a  sort  of  a  harp,"  explained  Beany. 

Vox  Humana  was  also  voted  a  frost,  but  the 
evening  as  a  whole  was  improving  with  every  revo 
lution  of  the  organ  motor.  Romance,  jealousy  and 
Audrey  were  all  forgotten.  "Lead,  Kindly  Light" 
was  run  through  again  and  again  with  every  pos 
sible  variation  of  stop.  Its  crashing  chords  rolled 
through  the  house  and  out  over  the  lawn  to  the 
wondering  night  birds. 

"Le's  pull  out  everything  an'  let  her  rip." 

They  pulled  out  all  the  stops,  turned  the  tempo 
pointer  as  far  to  the  right  as  it  would  go,  set  down 
the  loud  pedal,  and  pushed  all  the  buttons. 

"Here's  a  couple  we  haven't  pushed,"  cried 
Gangleshanks,  "way  down  underneath  the  ol'  thing." 

In  the  living-room  Mr.  Blossom  sat  at  a  large 
table  surrounded  by  papers.  The  faint  sounds  of 
a  piano  drifted  through  the  doorway.  Then,  after 
a  short  silence,  the  louder  booming  of  the  organ. 

"Damn!"  he  exclaimed,  fidgeting  with  his  papers. 
"What  did  Audrey  want  to  start  that  thing  for?" 

"And  what  an  odd  tune  to  select,"  remarked  his 

[330 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

wife,  as  the  strains  of  "Lead,  Kindly  Light"  filled 
the  house  for  the  second  time. 

Again  and  again  it  was  repeated.  Each  time  it 
grew  louder  and  the  tempo  swifter.  Mr.  Blossom 
seized  his  head  and  groaned. 

"Why  tonight  of  all  nights?"  he  asked,  through 
clenched  teeth. 

Gangleshanks  pressed  the  newly  discovered  but 
tons.  There  was  a  moment  of  hesitation,  then  the 
roll  began  to  turn  slowly.  From  within  the  organ 
came  a  muffled,  scraping  noise.  Gradually  the 
Kindly  Light  gathered  momentum.  It  went  from 
hymn  time  to  jazz,  and  from  jazz  to  chaos.  The 
volume  of  sound  was  remarkable.  The  organ 
trembled  under  the  strain. 

Beany  and  Gangleshanks  were  in  an  ecstasy. 
They  beat  a  tattoo  on  the  front  of  the  organ  with 
the  palms  of  their  hands  and  swelled  the  din  with 
a  barbaric  chant  which  was  their  interpretation  of 
the  air. 

Through  the  din  they  were  conscious  of  a  dis 
tant  bellowing.  Gangleshanks  looked  up  and 
nudged  Beany.  Mr.  Blossom  was  standing  in  the 
doorway,  his  mouth  opening  and  shutting.  It  was 
impossible  to  hear  his  words. 

[332] 


AND  THE  TUB 

"Sir?"  Beany  and  Gangleshanks  slid  off  the 
piano  bench  and  leaving  the  Kindly  Light  to  its  own 
resources,  crossed  the  room  to  where  their  host  was 
standing. 

"Excuse  me,  sir.  I  couldn't  hear  you."  Beany's 
voice  showed  the  utmost  respect  and  attention. 

"I  said,  'STOP  THAT  DAMN  NOISE.'  " 

Beany  looked  about  him  enquiringly,  apparently 
not  quite  sure  what  Mr.  Blossom  could  mean.  At 
that  moment  the  last  six  inches  of  "Lead,  Kindly 
Light"  hove  into  view.  The  roll  ended  with  a  dull 
thud,  but  for  some  unknown  reason  the  motor  kept 
right  on  going. 

"You  mean  the  organ,  sir?"  asked  Beany,  sur 
prised,  indicating  the  particular  instrument  with  his 
thumb. 

"Yes,  I  mean "  He  was  interrupted  by  a 

clashing  squeal  from  behind  the  organ.  "Lead, 
Kindly  Light"  held  out  bravely  for  a  moment  then 
tore  into  shreds.  Sounds,  resembling  an  auto  run 
ning  at  top  speed  with  a  broken  connecting  rod, 
took  the  place  of  the  music. 

Mr.  Blossom  pushed  them  aside  and  rushed  to 
the  aid  of  the  tortured  instrument.  Audrey  and 

[333] 


BEANY,  GANGLESHANKS, 

the  Tub  appeared  in  the  French  window.    They  had 
been  out  on  the  terrace. 

Gangleshanks  looked  at  Beany.  In  this  hour  of 
danger  he  acknowledged  his  master. 

"We  best  go,"  said  Beany. 

They  passed  into  the  hall  and  seized  their  caps 
from  the  marble  table.  Mrs.  Blossom  brushed  past 
with  unseeing  eyes.  A  bell  rang  in  the  rear  of  the 
house.  They  were  happily  forgotten. 

Only  twelve -year-old  Audrey  remembered  her 
social  duties. 

"Are  you  going?"  she  asked,  but  there  was  little 
in  her  voice  which  would  have  induced  them  to 
stay. 

"I  guess  we  best,"  mumbled  Beany,  his  hand  on 
the  door  knob.  "Come  on,  Tub." 

But  the  Tub  made  no  move.  He  looked  at  Beany 
in  surprise.  "I  ain't  goin',"  he  said.  "I  bu-bu-bu- 
been  asked  to  spend  Sunday.  I  don't  go  in  till 
Mu-mu-mu-monday  mornin'." 

They  mounted  their  wheels  in  a  daze.  As  they 
rode  uncertainly  down  the  dark  driveway  Beany 
reached  into  the  pocket  of  his  coat.  A  small,  com 
pact  mass  flew  through  the  air  and  landed  in  the 
bushes.  They  heard  the  Tub's  voice  calling  after 

[334] 


AND  THE  TUB 

them.     Mingled  with  the  old  familiar  tones  was  a 
new  note — a  note  of  confidence  and  triumph. 

"See   you    in    school    mu-mu-mu-mu-rnu-mu " 

His  voice  trailed  out  and  died  away  in  the  night. 


[3351 


Jl  Selection  from  the 
Catalogue  of 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 


Complete  Catalogues  sent 
on  application 


^he  Novelist 
who  never  had 
a  failure! 


12 


All  other  novelists,  no 
matter  what  their 
fame,  have  slumped— 
never,  Dell.    It  is  a 
perfect  staircase 
up  to  Fame,  an 
astounding  cres 
cendo,  from 
"TheWayof 


14 


13 


11 


10 


anEagle"up 
to  this  new 
one 


8 


The  Obstacle  Race 


Rosa  Mundi 


The  Top  of  the  World 


The  Tidal  Wave 


The  Lamp  in  the  Desert 


Greatheart 


The  Safety  Curtain 


The  Hundredth  Chance 


Bars  of  Iron 


The  Keeper  of  the  Door 


The  Swindler 


The  Rocks  of  Valpre 


The  Knave  of  Diamonds 


The  Way  of  an  Eagle 


obstacle  Race 

New  York  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons  London 


The 

Leather  Pushers 

By 

H.  C.  Witwer 

This  is  the  story  of  Kane  Halliday, 
college  man,  football  hero,  and 
society  pet,  who,  driven  by  dire 
necessity,  fights  his  way  to  the 
world's  championship  heavyweight 
title,  and  incidentally  a  wife.  Halli- 
day's  lovable  roughneck  trainer  tells 
the  story  in  the  same  deliciously 
slangy  vein  in  which  the  author's 
From  Baseball  to  Bodies  and  other 
famous  sporting  tales  were  written 


New  York   G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons   London 


The  Man  with  the 
Brooding  Eyes 


By 

John  Goodwin 

Author  of  «'  Without  Mercy" 

A  romance  full  of  excitement  and 
surprises,  woven  around  the  plots  not 
only  of  the  execrable  "  Callaghan 
Gang,"  who  get  into  their  clutches  a 
stenographer  who  turns  out  to  be  an 
heiress,  but  of  the  counter-plots  of  a 
devoted  lover  and  clever  lawyer,  and 
of  a  "tall,  lean  man  with  brooding 
eyes,"  who  plays  providence  in  a  story 
in  the  early  part  of  which  he  figures  as 
one  of  the  principal  villains. 


Q.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


SHOW  DOWN 

By 
Julia  Houston  Railey 

Here  is  a  novel  of  the  new  feminine 
age,  with  a  love  theme  as  ancient  as 
Eve — the  adventurous  story  of  a  small 
town  Southern  girl  who  fairly  erupts 
from  an  Eastern  college  and,  as  a 
social  worker,  boldly  launches  a  fight 
on  crooks  and  rottenness,  a  fight 
which  begins  in  a  pine  woods  school 
and  explodes  in  the  shouting  sessions 
of  a  State  Legislature.  Nancy  Carroll 
is  no  severe,  flat-heeled  reformer,  but 
a  whimsical  and  exquisite  little  person, 
with  an  irrepressible  sense  of  humor 
— brains  too! 

"  Show  Down  "  is  delightfully  real 
— perhaps  because  Mrs.  Railey  lived 
the  book  as  well  as  wrote  it. 

Charles  Hanson  Towne  says  :  "  It 
is  the  best  first  novel  I  have  read  for 
many  years." 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


1/iRCH 


A     000  034  339     2 


